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E.    P.    BUTTON    &    COMPANY 


O  Thought,  that  wrote  all  that  I  met, 

And  in  the  tresorie  it  set 

Of  my  braine,  now  shall  men  see 

If  any  vertue  in  thee  bee. 

Now  kith  thy  engine  and  thy  might. 

— CHAUCER,  House  of  Fame,  ii.  18. 



ICH  of  the  additional  matter  in  this  Edition  has 
appeared  at  different  times  in  the  Oxford  Magazine. 
Extracts  are  also  inserted,  by  kind  permission  of 
the  Editor,  from  some  of  my  Oxford  Articles  in  the 
Athenceum.  Fresh  chapters  are  given  to  Trinity 
and  Corpus.  Names  newly  introduced  are  those 
of  Baden  Powell,  Hungerford  Pollen,  T.  H.  Green, 
Hext  of  Corpus,  Monsignor  Patterson,  Henry  Coxe, 
Vaughan  Thomas,  Meyrick  of  Trinity,  F.  D.  Maurice, 
Dean  Lake,  Archbishop  Temple,  Isaac  Williams, 
Warden  Sewell  of  New  College,  "  Tommy  "  Short. 
The  notices  of  Pusey,  Newman,  Sir  H.  Acland, 
Provost  Hawkins,  Mark  Pattison,  are  enlarged. 
The  brilliant  squib  of  1849,  called  "The  Grand 
University  Logic  Stakes,"  now  very  scarce,  appears, 
with  a  Notuiarum  Spidlegium,  in  the  Appendix. 








V.    AESCULAPIUS   IN  THE  THIRTIES         ....  62 



VIII.   MORE   ABOUT  UNDERGRADUATES     .          .          .  .104 


X.   MAGDALEN   AND  NEW  COLLEGE        .  .  .          .158 

XI.   ORIEL 179 



XIV.  CORPUS .          .           .  239 


SEWELL         .          .          .  ...          .          .          .252 



INDEX 339 



1.  The  Vice-Chancellor  entering  St.   Mary's.     The  "Vice,"  Dr. 

Cotton,  Provost  of  Worcester,  is  followed  by  his  Pro-Vice- 
Chancellor  Plumptre,  Master  of  University,  and  "Ben" 
Symons,  Warden  of  Wadham.  Photographed  by  Mrs.  Frieda 
Girdlestone  from  a  coloured  drawing  by  the  Rev.  T.  Woollam 
Smith Frontispiece 

2.  "  Horse"  Kett,  from  a  portrait  by  Dighton          .  To  face  page   15 

3.  Dr.  Daubeny,  from  a  photograph,  1860       .  „  33 

4.  Dr.   Buckland.     The  Ansdell  portrait.     Repro- 

duced from  Mrs.  Gordon's  "  Life  of  Buckland," 
by  kind  permission  of  the  authoress  and  of  the 
publisher,  Mr.  John  Murray  .  .  .  .  ,,  41 

5.  Woodward,  architect  of  the  Museum.     From  a 

contemporary  photograph          ....  „  51 

6.  Huxley,  from  a  photograph  taken  at  the  Meeting 

of  the  British  Association,  1860        ...  ,,  55 

7.  Tuckwell,  from  a  water-colour  drawing,  1883      .  ,,  65 

8.  Charles  Wordsworth,  from  Richmond's  portrait  .  ,,  87 

9.  Pusey,    from   a    pen-and-ink    drawing    of    the 

Thirties,  photographed  by  Mrs.  Girdlestone      .  ,,  132 

10.  Sir  Frederick  Ouseley,  from  a  photograph  about 

1856 ,,148 

11.  Dr.  Routh,  from  Pickersgill's  portrait  .         .         .  „          159 

12.  J.    H.   Newman,   from   a    pen-and-ink    drawing 

1841,  photographed  by  Mrs.  Girdlestone  .         .  „          182 

13.  Mark  Pattison,  from  a  portrait  in  the  possession 

of  Miss  Stirke „          252 

14.  John     Gutch,     engraved     from    a    water-colour 

belonging  to  the  family ,,          289 

15.  Mother  Louse,    from   the  line    engraving    after 

Loggan ,,290 

1 6.  Mother    Goose,    from  a  coloured  lithograph    by 

Dighton „          292 




"  KO.I  fj.T)v,  fy  5'  £ycb,  &  K^iaXe,  %af/)W  ye  dia\ey6fji.evos  T<KS 
ff(f>6dpa  7iy>e<r/3urcuj."  "  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Cephalus,  I 
rejoice  in  conversing  with  very  old  persons"  —  PLATO, 
Republic,  A.  ii. 

The  Thirties  —  The  Approach  to  Oxford  —  Coaching  Celebrities  —  The 
Common  Rooms  —  Then  and  Now  —  The  Lost  Art  of  Conver- 
sation —  Beaux  Esprits  and  Belles  —  Marshall  Hacker  —  Miss 

THE  evening  of  a  prolonged  life  has  its  compen- 
sations and  its  duties.  It  has  its  compensations  : 
the  Elder,  who,  reverend  like  Shakespeare's  Nestor 
for  his  outstretched  life,  has  attained  through  old 
experience  something  of  prophetic  strain,  reaps 
keen  enjoyment  from  his  personal  familiarity  with 
the  days  of  yore,  known  to  those  around  him 
roughly  from  the  page  of  history  or  not  at  all. 
It  has  its  duties  :  to  hand  on  and  to  depict  with 
the  fascinating  touch  of  first-hand  recollection  the 
incidents  and  action,  the  characteristics  and  the 
scenery,  of  that  vanished  past,  which  in  the  retired 
actor's  memory  still  survives,  but  must  scatter  like 
the  Sybil's  leaves  should  he  pass  off  the  stage  un- 
communicative and  unrecording. 



The  nineteenth  century,  in  the  second  intention 
of  the  term,  opens  with  the  Thirties ;  its  first  two 
decades  belong  to  and  conclude  an  earlier  epoch. 
The  Thirties  saw  the  birth  of  railroads  and  of  the 
penny  post ;  they  invented  lucifer  matches  ;  they 
witnessed  Parliamentary  and  Municipal  reform,  the 
new  Poor  Law,  the  opening  of  London  University  ; 
they  hailed  the  accession  of  Victoria ;  in  them 
Charles  Dickens,  Tennyson,  Keble,  Browning,  John 
Henry  Newman,  began  variously  to  influence  the 
world ;  while  with  Scott,  Crabbe,  Coleridge,  Lamb, 
Southey,  all  but  a  few  patriarchs  of  the  older 
school  of  literature  passed  away.  Men  now 
alive  who  were  born,  like  myself,  in  the  reign  of 
George  IV.,  recall  and  can  describe  an  England 
as  different  from  the  England  of  our  present 
century  as  monarchic  France  under  the  Capets 
differed  from  republican  France  to-day.  Nowhere 
was  the  breach  with  the  past  more  sundering 
than  in  Oxford.  The  University  over  which  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  was  installed  as  Chancellor  in 
1834  owned  undissolved  continuity  with  the  Oxford 
of  Addison,  Thomas  Hearne,  the  Wartons,  Bishop 
Lowth  ;  the  seeds  of  the  changes  which  awaited  it— 
of  Church  movements,  Museums  and  Art  Galleries, 
Local  Examinations,  Science  Degrees,  Extension 
Lectures,  Women's  Colleges — germinating  unsus- 
pected while  the  old  warrior  was  emitting  his 
genial  false  quantities  in  the  Theatre,  were  to  begin 
their  transforming  growth  before  the  period  which 
he  adorned  had  found  its  close.  The  Oxford,  then, 
of  the  Thirties,  its  scenery  and  habits,  its  humours 
and  its  characters,  its  gossip  and  its  wit,  shall  be 

OXFORD   IN   THE   THIRTIES         3 

first  among  the  dry  bones  in  the  valley  of  forget- 
fulness  which  I  will  try  to  clothe  with  flesh. 

It  was  said  in  those  days  that  the  approach  to 
Oxford  by  the  Henley  Road  was  the  most  beautiful 
in  the  world.  Soon  after  passing  Littlemore  you 
came  in  sight  of,  and  did  not  lose  again,  the  sweet 
city  with  its  dreaming  spires,  driven  along  a  road 
now  crowded  and  obscured  with  dwellings,  open 
then  to  cornfields  on  the  right,  to  uninclosed 
meadows  on  the  left,  with  an  unbroken  view  of 
the  long  line  of  towers,  rising  out  of  foliage  less 
high  and  veiling  than  after  seventy  more  years 
of  growth  to-day.  At  once,  without  suburban 
interval,  you  entered  the  finest  quarter  of  the 
town,  rolling  under  Magdalen  Tower,  and  past 
the  Magdalen  elms,  then  in  full  unmutilated  luxu- 
riance, till  the  exquisite  curves  of  the  High  Street 
opened  on  you,  as  you  drew  up  at  the  Angel,  or 
passed  on  to  the  Mitre  and  the  Star.  Along  that 
road,  or  into  Oxford  by  the  St.  Giles's  entrance, 
lumbered  at  midnight  Pickford's  vast  waggons  with 
their  six  musically  belled  horses ;  sped  stage-coaches 
all  day  long — Tantivy,  Defiance,  Rival,  Regulator, 
Mazeppa,  Telegraph,  Rocket,  "  a  fast  coach,  which 
performed  the  journey  from  Oxford  to  Birmingham 
in  seven  hours,"  Dart,  Magnet,  Blenheim,  and 
some  thirty  more ;  heaped  high  with  ponderous 
luggage  and  with  cloaked  passengers,  thickly  hung 
at  Christmas  time  with  turkeys,  with  pheasants  in 
October ;  their  guards,  picked  buglers,  sending  be- 
fore them  as  they  passed  Magdalen  Bridge  the 
now  forgotten  strains  of  "  Brignall  Banks,"  "The 
Troubadour,"  "I'd  be  a  Butterfly,"  "The  Maid 


of  Llangollen/'  or  "  Begone,  Dull  care  "  ;  on  the 
box  their  queer  old  purple  -  faced  many  -  caped 
drivers  —  Cheeseman,  Steevens,  Fowles,  Charles 
Homes,  Jack  Adams,  and  Black  Will.  This  last 
jehu,  spending  three  nights  of  the  week  in  Ox- 
ford, four  in  London,  maintained  in  both  a  home, 
presided  over  by  two  several  wives,  with  each  of 
whom  he  had  gone  through  the  marriage  cere- 
mony ;  and  had  for  many  years — so  distant  was 
Oxford  then  from  London — kept  each  partner  igno- 
rant of  her  sister's  existence.  The  story  came  out 
at  last ;  but  the  wives  seem  not  to  have  objected, 
and  it  was  the  business  of  no  one  else  ;  indeed, 
had  he  been  indicted  for  bigamy,  no  Oxford  jury 
could  have  been  found  to  convict  Black  Will. 

The  coaches  were  horsed  by  Richard  Costar,  as 
great  an  original  as  any  of  his  men  ;  he  lived  in 
his  picturesque  house  on  the  Cherwell,  now  con- 
verted into  Magdalen  School,  just  opposite  Mag- 
dalen Turnpike,  having  two  entrance  gates,  one 
on  each  side  of  the  pike,  so  that  he  could  always 
elude  payment.  I  remember  standing  within  his 
railings  to  see  the  procession  of  royal  carriages 
which  brought  Queen  Adelaide  to  Oxford  in  1835. 
She  drove  about  in  semi-state,  attending  New  Col- 
lege and  Magdalen  Chapels,  lunching  at  Queen's, 
and  holding  a  court  at  the  Angel.  Opposite  to  her 
in  the  carriage  sat  always  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
in  his  gold-tasselled  cap,  more  cheered  and  re- 
garded than  the  quiet,  plain-looking,  spotty-faced 
Queen.  The  Mayor  of  Oxford  was  an  old  Mr. 
Wootten,  brewer,  banker,  and  farmer,  dressed 
always  in  blue  brass-buttoned  coat,  cords,  top- 

OXFORD   IN  THE   THIRTIES         5 

boots,  and  powdered  hair.  He  was  told  that  he 
must  pay  his  respects  to  the  Queen ;  so  he  drove 
to  the  Angel  in  his  wonderful  one-horse-chaise, 
a  vehicle  in  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bubb  might 
have  made  their  historic  jaunt  to  Brighton,  and 
was  introduced  to  her  Majesty  by  the  Chamber- 
lain, Lord  Howe.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  be 
kissed :  the  Mayor  shook  it  heartily,  with  the  saluta- 
tion :  "  How  d'ye  do,  marm  ;  how's  the  King  ? " 
I  saw  Queen  Victoria  two  years  afterwards  pro- 
claimed at  Carfax ;  and  in  the  general  election  of 
1837  I  witnessed  from  the  windows  of  Dr.  Rowley, 
Master  of  University,  the  chairing  of  the  successful 
candidates,  Donald  Maclean  of  Balliol,  and  William 
Erie  of  New  College,  afterwards  Chief  Justice  of 
the  Common  Pleas.  Erie  rode  in  a  fine  open 
carriage  with  four  white  horses ;  Maclean  was 
borne  aloft,  as  was  the  custom,  in  a  chair  on  four 
men's  shoulders.  Just  as  he  passed  University,  I 
saw  a  man  beneath  me  in  the  crowd  fling  at  him 
a  large  stone.  Maclean,  a  cricketer  and  athlete, 
saw  it  coming,  caught  it,  dropped  it,  and  took  off 
his  hat  to  the  man,  who  disappeared  from  view  in 
the  onset  made  upon  him  by  the  mob ;  and,  as 
Bunyan  says  of  Neighbour  Pliable,  I  saw  him  no 
more.  Maclean  was  a  very  handsome  man,  owing 
his  election,  it  was  said,  to  his  popularity  among 
the  wives  of  the  electors  ;  he  died  insolvent  and  in 
great  poverty  some  years  afterwards. 

The  University  life  was  not  without  its  brilliant 
social  side.  The  Heads  of  Houses,  with  their 
families,  formed  a  class  apart,  exchanging  solemn 
dinners  and  consuming  vasty  deeps  of  port ;  but 


the  abler  resident  Fellows,  the  younger  Professors, 
and  one  or  two  notable  outsiders,  made  up  con- 
vivial sets,  with  whose  wit,  fun,  frolic,  there  is  no 
Comparison  in  modern  Oxford.  The  Common 
f  Rooms  to-day,  as  I  am  informed,  are  swamped 
by  shop  ;  while  general  society,  infinitely  extended 
by  the  abolition  of  College  celibacy,  is  correspond- 
ingly diluted.  Tutors  and  Professors  are  choked 
with  distinctions  and  redundant  with  educational 
activity ;  they  lecture,  they  write,  they  edit,  they 
investigate,  they  athleticise,  they  are  scientific  or 
theological  or  historical  or  linguistic ;  they  fulfil 
presumably  some  wise  end  or  ends.  But  one 
accomplishment  of  their  forefathers  has  perished 
from  among  them  —  they  no  longer  talk:  the 
Ciceronian  ideal  of  conversation,  a-TrovSatov  ovSev, 
<f>i\6\o<ya  multa,  "Not  a  word  on  shop,  much  on 
literature,"  has  perished  from  among  them.  In 
the  Thirties,  conversation  was  a  fine  art,  a  claim 
to  social  distinction  :  choice  sprouts  of  the  brain, 
epigram,  anecdote,  metaphor,  now  nursed  care- 
fully for  the  printer,  were  joyously  lavished  on 
one  another  by  the  men  and  women  of  those 
bibulous,  pleasant  days,  who  equipped  themselves 
at  leisure  for  the  wit  combats  each  late  supper- 
party  provoked,  following  on  the  piquet,  quadrille, 
or  whist,  which  was  the  serious  business  of 
the  evening.  Their  talk  ranged  wide ;  their 
scholarship  was  not  technical  but  monumental ; 
they  were  no  philologists,  but  they  knew  their 
authors — their  authors,  not  classical  only,  but  of 
mediaeval,  renaissant,  modern,  Europe.  I  re- 
member how  Christopher  Erie,  eccentric  Fellow 


of  New  College,  warmed  with  more  than  ones 
glass  of  ruby  Carbonel,  would  pour  out  yEschylus, 
Horace,  Dante,  by  the  yard.  Staid  Hammond  of 
Merton,  son  to  Canning's  secretary  and  biographer, 
knew  his  Pope  by  heart,  quoting  him  effectively 
and  to  the  point.  Edward  Greswell  of  Corpus, 
whose  quaint  figure  strode  the  streets  always  with 
stick  in  one  hand  and  umbrella  in  the  other, 
was  a  walking  library  of  Greek  and  Latin  inscrip- 

A  select  few  ladies,  frank  spinsters  and  jovial 
matrons,  added  to  the  charm  of  these  conviviali- 
ties. Attired  in  short  silk  dresses  —  for  Queen 
Addy,  as  Lady  Granville  calls  her,  was  proud  of 
her  foot  and  ankle — sandal-shoes,  lace  tippets,  hair 
dressed  in  crisp  or  flowing  curls,  they  took  their 
part  in  whist  or  at  quadrille,  this  last  a  game  I  fear 
forgotten  now,  bearing  their  full  share  in  the  Attic 
supper-table  till  their  sedan-chairs  came  to  carry 
them  away.  There  was  gay  old  Mrs.  Neve,  belle 
of  Oxford  in  her  prime,  living  a  widow  now  in 
Beam  Hall,  opposite  Merton,  with  seven  card- 
tables  laid  out  sometimes  in  her  not  spacious 
drawing-room.  Mrs.  Foulkes,  whose  husband,  the 
Principal  of  Jesus,  walked  the  High  Street  always- 
upon  St.  David's  day  with  a  large  leek  fastened  in 
the  tassel  of  his  cap,  piqued  herself  on  the  style 
and  quality  of  her  dress.  She  had  a  rival  in  Mrs. 
Pearse,  a  handsome  widow  living  in  St.  Giles' ;  by 
the  aid  of  Miss  Boxall,  the  fashionable  milliner, 
they  vied  with  one  another  like  Brunetta  and 
Phyllis  in  the  Spectator.  Famous,  not  for  dress, 
but  for  audacity  and  wit,  was  Rachel  Burton, 


"Jack"  Burton  as  she  was  called,  daughter  to  a 
Canon  of  Christchurch,  whose  flirtations  with  old 
Blucher,  on  the  visit  of  the  allied  sovereigns,  had 
amused  a  former  generation,  and  who  still  survived 
to  recall  and  propagate  anecdotes  not  always  fit  for 
ears  polite.  Amongst  her  eccentricities  she  once 
won  the  Newdigate  :  the  judges,  agreed  upon  the 
poem  which  deserved  the  prize,  broke  the  motto'd 
envelope  to  find  within  the  card  of  Miss  Rachel 
Burton.  Her  sister  "Tom,"  married  to  Marshall 
Hacker,  vicar  of  Iffley,  I  knew  well ;  and  I  remem- 
ber too  the  illustrious  Jack,  lodging  in  the  corner 
house  of  what  was  then  called  Coach  and  Horse 
Lane,  sunning  herself  on  summer  days  without  her 
wig  and  in  wild  dishabille  on  a  small  balcony  over- 
looking the  garden  of  a  house  in  which  I  often 
visited.  A  wild  story,  which  being  absolutely  un- 
true, does  infinite  credit  to  the  inventive  powers  of 
the  generation  that  originated  it,  explained  in  my 
time  Mr.  Marshall  Hacker's  double  appellation. 
His  name  was  said  to  have  been  Marshall ;  and  he 
was  by  profession  a  surgeon.  His  intimate  friend 
was  injured  while  shooting,  and  Marshall  ampu- 
tated the  wounded  limb.  The  patient  died,  in 
consequence,  he  believed,  of  unskilful  treatment 
under  the  knife.  He  bequeathed  a  fortune  to  the 
operator,  on  condition  that  he  should  at  once  take 
orders,  becoming  thereby  precluded  from  pro- 
fessional practice,  and  that  he  should  assume  the 
surname  of  Hacker.  It  seemed  to  be  one  of  those 
stories  which,  as  Charles  Kingsley  used  to  say,  are 
too  good  not  to  be  true ;  but  I  am  bound  to 
destroy  it :  for  I  have  learned  that  Mr.  Marshall 

OXFORD   IN   THE   THIRTIES         9 

was  never  a  surgeon,  and  that  he  took  the  name  of 
Hacker  on  inheriting  property  descending  to  him 
from  an  ancestress,  sister  to  Colonel  Hacker  the 
regicide,  who  married  a  Marshall  in  1645. 

Another  of  these  vestals  was  Miss,  or,  as  she 
liked  to  be  called,  Mrs.  Horseman,  dressy  and 
made  up,  and  posthumously  juvenile,  but  retaining 
something  of  the  beauty  which  had  won  the  heart 
of  Lord  Holland's  eldest  son  years  before,  when 
at  Oxford  with  his  tutor  Shuttleworth,  until  her 
Ladyship  took  the  alarm,  swept  down,  and  carried 
him  off;  and  had  attracted  admiring  notice  from 
the  Prince  Regent  in  the  Theatre,  as  she  sat  in 
the  Ladies'  Gallery  with  her  lovely  sister,  Mrs. 
Nicholas.  They  came  from  Bath ;  I  have  always 
imagined  their  mother  to  be  the  "  Mrs.  Horseman, 
a  very  old,  very  little,  very  civil,  very  ancient- 
familied,  good,  quaint  old  lady,"  with  whom  Fanny 
Burney  spent  an  evening  in  I79I.1  Miss  Horse- 
man herself  was  a  witty,  well-bred,  accomplished 
woman.  Her  memory  was  an  inexhaustible  trea- 
sure-house of  all  the  apt  sayings,  comic  incidents, 
memorable  personages  of  the  past  thirty  years, 
dispensed  with  gossip  and  green  tea  to  her  guests 
round  the  little  drawing-room  of  her  house  in 
Skimmery  Hall  Lane,  hung  with  valuable  Claude 
engravings  in  their  old  black  frames.  She  outlived 
her  bright  faculties,  became  childish,  and  wandered 
in  her  talk,  but  to  the  last  shone  forth  in  all  the 
glaring  impotence  of  dress,  ever  greeting  me  with 
cordial  welcome,  and  pathetically  iterative  anecdote. 

1  Madame  D'Arblay's  "  Diary,"  vol.  v.  p.  257. 


She  lies  just  outside  St.  Mary's  Church  ;  I  see  her 
grave  through  the  railings  as  I  pass  along  the 
street.  That  is  the  final  record  of  all  those  charm- 
ing antediluvians  ;  "  arl  gone  to  churchyard,"  says 
Betty  Maxworthy  in  "  Lorna  Doone."  La  farce  est 
jouee^  tire  le  rideau ; — but  it  is  something  to  recall 
and  fix  the  Manes  Acheronte  remissos. 



"/  am  known  to  be  a  humorous  patrician ;  hasty  and 
tinder -like  upon  too  trivial  motion  ;  what  I  think  I  utter,  and 
spend  my  malice  in  my  breath" — SHAKESPEARE. 

Thomas  Dunbar — Brasenose  Ale — A  famous  Chess  Club — Dunbar's 
Impromptus — "Horse"  Kett  of  Trinity — Oriel  Oddities — Cople- 
ston— Blanco  White— Whately— Dr.  Bull  of  Christchurch— The 
Various  Species  of  Dons— The  Senior  Fellow— Some  Venerable 
Waifs— Tom  Davis— Dr.  Ellerton  of  Magdalen — Rudd  of  Oriel 
— Edward  Quicke  of  New  College — Dr.  Frowd  of  Corpus — His 
Vagaries  as  Preacher  and  Politician — A  Brother  Bedlamite — 
"  Mo  "  Griffith  of  Merton— His  Quips  and  Cranks. 

READERS  who,  like  supercilious  Mr.  Peter  MagnusTi 
are  not  fond  of  anything  original,  had  better  skip 
this  chapter ;  if,  with  young  Marlow  in  "  She 
Stoops  to  Conquer,"  they  can  say  more  good- 
naturedly,  "  He's  a  character,  and  I'll  humour 
him,"  let  them  persevere ;  for  I  shall  recall  not 
a  few  among  the  Oxford  Characters  of  my  early 
recollections.  They  were  common  enough  in 
those  days.  Nature,  after  constructing  an  oddity, 
was  wont  to  break  the  mould ;  and  her  more 
roguish  experiments  stood  exceptional,  numerous, 
distinct,  and  sharply  denned.  Nowadays,  at 
Oxford,  as  elsewhere,  men  seem  to  me  to  be 
turned  out  by  machinery  ;  they  think  the  same 
thoughts,  wear  the  same  dress,  talk  the  same 
shop,  in  Parliament,  or  Bar,  or  Mess,  or  Com-  * 


mon  Room.     Even  in  the  Forties  Characters  were 
becoming  rare  ;  as  the  Senior  Fellows  of  Corpus 
and    of    Merton,    Frowd    and    Mo.    Griffith— two 
oddities  of  whom   I   shall  have  something  to  say 
later  on — were  one   day  walking   together   round 
Christchurch    Meadow,    little    Frowd    was    over- 
heard   lamenting    that    the    strange    Originals    of 
their  younger  days  seemed  to  have  vanished  from 
the   skirts   of  Oxford   knowledge  ;    but  was   con- 
soled  by   Griffith— "  Does    it    not    occur    to    you, 
Dr.  Frowd,  that  you  and  I  are  the  'Characters' 
of  to-day?" 

First  in  my  list  shall  come  Thomas  Dunbar,  of 
Brasenose,  keeper  of  the  Ashmolean,  poet,  anti- 
quary, conversationalist.  Didbin,  in  his  "  Biblio- 
graphical Decameron,"  congratulates  Oxford  on 
Dunbar's  appointment  to  the  neglected  museum, 
which  he  cleansed,  smartened,  rearranged,  res- 
cuing from  dust  and  moths  the  splendid  twelfth- 
century  "  Bestiarium  "  which  Ashmole  had  placed 
in  the  collection.  His  poems,  vers  de  l}  University 
were  handed  about  in  manuscript,  and  are  mostly 
lost.  I  possess  an  amusing  squib  on  "  Brasenose 
Ale,"  commemorating  the  else  forgotten  Brasenose 
dons  and  city  wine  merchants  of  the  day ; J  with 
an  ode  composed  by  him  as  Poet  Laureate  to  a 
famous  chess  club,  whose  minutes  have  passed 
from  my  bookshelves  to  swell  the  unrivalled  col- 
lection of  Mr.  Madan,  the  accomplished  Sub- 
Librarian  at  the  Bodleian.2  It  was  recited  at  an 
anniversary  dinner,  where  sat  as  invited  guests 

1  Appendix  A.  2  Appendix  B. 


Mr.  Markland,  of  Bath  ;  Sir  Christopher  Pegge ; 
porter-loving  Dale  of  B.N.C.  satirised  in  "  Brase- 
nose  Ale " ;  with  Henry  Matthews,  author  of  the 
"Diary  of  an  Invalid."1  "  It  was  a  sumptuous 
dinner,"  the  minutes  fondly  record  ;  it  began  at 
five  o'clock,  and  must  have  continued  till  after 
nine;  for  "Old  Tom  is  tolling"  is  written  on  the 
opposite  page.  The  King's  Arms,  where  it  was 
held,  still  stands ;  but  the  delightful  symposiasts, 
with  their  powdered  hair  and  shirt-frills,  their 
hessians  or  silk  stockings,  their  sirloins  and 
eighteenth-century  port,  are  gone  to  what  Dunbar's 
poem  calls  the  Mansion  of  Hades.  His,  too,  was 
the  lampoon  on  the  two  corpulent  brothers,  whose 
names  I  will  not  draw  from  their  dread  abode. 
Respectively  a  physician  and  a  divine,  they  were 
lazy  and  incapable  in  either  function.  This  is 
Dunbar's  friendly  estimate  of  the  pair  : — 

Here  D.D.  toddles,  M.D.  rolls, 
Were  ever  such  a  brace  of  noddies  ? 

D.U.  has  the  cure  of  souls, 
M.D.  has  the  care  of  bodies. 

Between  them  both  what  treatment  rare 

Our  bodies  and  our  souls  endure ; 
One  has  the  cure  without  the  care, 

And  one  the  care  without  the  cure.2 

1  Appendix  C. 

2  One  of  my  critics  claims  these  lines  for  Horace  Smith,  of 
the   "Rejected  Addresses."    They  were  ascribed  to  Dunbar 
in  my  time ;  are  perhaps  more  likely  to  be  by  a  man  not 
known  beyond  Oxford,  than  to  one  amongst  those  of  wider 
fame  on  whom   at  that  time  every  unauthentic  jeu  tfesprit 
was  fathered. 


But  his  most  brilliant  reputation  was  colloquial  ; 
sparkling  with  apt  quotations  and  with  pointed 
well-placed  anecdotes,  he  was  especially  happy  in 
his  impromptus.  Leaving  England  for  the  East, 
the  Club  accredit  him  with  a  Latin  letter,  penned 
by  Gilbert,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Chichester,  to 
the  Prince  of  the  Faithful,  as  Grand  Master  of 
Oriental  chess-craft.  He  returns  thanks  in  "a 
warm  and  impressive  Latin  oration " ;  and  sud- 
denly perceiving  that  the  seal  appended  to  the 
commendatory  epistle  is  enclosed  in  an  oyster 
shell,  he  exclaims,  "Et  in  Graecia  Ostracismum 
Aristidi  ostendam  ! "  One  of  the  Heads  of  Houses 
had  four  daughters — Mary,  a  don  ;  Lucy,  a  blue- 
stocking ;  Susan,  a  simpleton ;  Fanny,  a  sweet 
unaffected  girl.  Asked  by  Lucy  the  meaning  of 
the  word  alliteration,  with  scarcely  a  pause  he 
replied  : — 

Minerva-like  majestic  Mary  moves  ; 
Law,  Latin,  logic,  learned  Lucy  loves  ; 
Serenely  silent,  Susan's  smiles  surprise  ; 
From  fops,  from  flatterers,  fairest  Fanny  flies. 

The  "toast"  of  the  day  was  a  beautiful  Miss 
Charlotte  Ness.  She  asked  Dunbar  the  force  of 
the  words  abstract  and  concrete,  which  she  had 
heard  in  a  University  sermon.  A  few  moments' 
silence  produced  the  following  : — 

Say,  what  is  Abstract  ?  what  Concrete  ? 

Their  difference  define. — 
They  both  in  one  fair  form  unite, 

And  that  fair  form  is  thine. — 




From  a  Portrait  by  Dighton 


How  so  ?  this  riddle  pray  undo. — 

'Tis  no  hard-laboured  guess, 
For  when  I  lovely  Charlotte  view, 

I  then  view  lovely  Ness. 

He  was  a  man  of  good  family,  hovering  between 
London,  Bath,  and  Oxford.  A  room  in  our  house 
at  Oxford  was  within  my  memory  known  as  Mr. 
Dunbar's  room.  His  walking-stick  was  handed 
down  to  me,  a  serpent-twined  caduceus,  with  the 
names  of  the  Nine  Muses  on  the  gold  handle.  Styx 
novies  interfusa  he  called  it. 

Contemporary  with  Dunbar  was  "  Horse  "  Kett, 
of  Trinity.  In  his  portrait  by  Dighton,  here  repro- 
duced, the  long  face,  dominated  by  the  straight 
bony  nose,  explains  and  justifies  the  epithet.  He  was 
a  man  of  considerable  ability  ;  Bampton  lecturer, 
novelist ;  and  just  missed  the  Poetry  Professorship. 
His  Bampton  Lectures  of  1790,  on  the  "  Conduct 
and  opinions  of  the  Primitive  Christians,"  show  a 
historic  insight  surprising  for  that  period.  His 
critical  powers  were  acknowledged  by  De  Quincy, 
who  referred  to  him  the  once  burning,  now  for- 
gotten, question  of  the  plagiarism  in  White's  Bamp- 
ton Lectures.  White  had  been  assisted  in  their 
composition  by  Parr,  by  Parsons,  Master  of  Balliol, 
by  a  Dr.  Gabriel  of  Bath,  and  by  a  dissenting 
minister,  Mr.  Badcock.  Kett,  called  in  to  arbitrate 
and  reconcile,  reprimanded  the  accomplices  all 
round.  But  his  repute  was  due  to  his  strange  equine 
face,  inspiring  from  the  seniors  jokes  in  every  learned 
language,  and  practical  impertinences  from  the  less 
erudite  youngsters.  When  his  back  was  turned  in 
lecture,  the  men  filled  his  snuff-box  with  oats.  Dr. 


Kidd  used  to  relate  how,  attending  him  in  his  rooms 
for  some  ailment,  he  heard  a  strange  rattle  in  the 
letter-box  of  the  outer  door  :  "  Only  a  note  (an 
oat),"  said  the  good-natured  victim.  Walter  Savage 
Landor  tried  on  him  his  prentice  hand — 

"  The  Centaur  is  not  fabulous,"  says  Young.1 

Had  Young  known  Kett, 
He'd  say,  "  Behold  one,  put  together  wrong  ; 

The  head  is  horseish,  but,  what  yet 
Was  never  seen  in  man  or  beast, 
The  rest  is  human — or,  at  least, 
Is  Kett." 

He  published  a  book  which  he  called  tl  Logic 
Made  Easy,"  puffing  himself  on  the  title  page  as  a 
public  University  Examiner.  It  was  a  dialogue 
between  a  father  and  his  motherless  daughter 
Emily ;  was  a  feeble  production  and  filled  with 
blunders.  A  pamphlet  from  Copleston's  pen,  en- 
titled "The  Examiner  Examined,"  scourged  it  with 
merciless  severity ;  and  bore  as  its  motto — 

Aliquis  latet  error ;  Equo  ne  credite,  Teucri ; 

a  stroke  of  personal  impertinence  better  perhaps 
omitted.  Dunbar,  too,  had  ready  his  possibly  pre- 
meditated impromptu.  Some  one  asked  him  who 
were  the  Proctors  in  a  certain  year  :  they  were 
Darnel,  of  Corpus,  and  Kett.  Dunbar  answered — 

Infelix  Lolium  et  steriles  dominantur  Avence. 

1  A  book  notable  in  its  day.—"  Young  (E.)  '  The  Centaur  not 
Fabulous,  in  Six  Letters  to  a  Friend  on  "  The  Life  in  Vogue," ' 
8vo,  copperplate  front.,  symbolic  of  the  public's  careless  gaiety, 
calf,  35.  6d.,  1755."  The  parody  on  Byron  in  the  "Rejected 
Addresses "  contains  the  line  "  Centaurs  (not  fabulous)  these 
rules  efface." 


The  mention  of  Copleston  carries  one  to  Oriel/] 
peopled  at  that  time  with  "characters"  of  a  very 
exalted  type.  Copleston,  substantial,  majestic, 
"richly  coloured,"  as  T.  Mozley  calls  him,  was 
Provost ;  a  man  not  without  asperities  of  mind  and 
manner — we  recall  his  rudeness  to  J.  H.  Newman, 
dining  in  Hall  as  a  newly-elected  Fellow  : — but,  as 
a  man  of  the  world,  in  London  society,  regular  con- 
tributor to  the  Quarterly  Review,  author  of  widely- 
read  and  accepted  pamphlets  on  currency  and 
finance,  he  held  absolute  ascendancy  amongst  the 
higher  class  of  University  men,  and  filled  his  College 
with  Fellows  strangely  alien  to  the  port  and  pre- 
judice, the  clubbable  whist-playing  somnolence, 
which  Gibbon  first,  then  Sydney  Smith,  found 
characteristic  of  Oxford  society.  I  saw  him  only 
once,  as  Bishop  of  Llandaff ;  but  his  mien  and 
presence  were  carefully  preserved  and  copied  by 
old  Joseph  Parker,  the  bookseller,  who  resembled 
him  curiously  in  face  and  voice,  and,  in  a  suit  of 
formal  black,  with  frill  at  the  breast  and  massive 
gold  seals  pendent  from  the  fob,  imitated  his  walk 
and  manner.  He  carried  on  at  Oriel  the  innova- 
tion of  his  predecessor,  Provost  Eveleigh,  who  had 
forced  on  a  reluctant  University  the  Public  Exa- 
mination for  a  B.A.  degree;1  and  who  gave  his 
Fellowships  not  so  much  to  technical  attainment 
as  to  evidence  of  intellectual  capacity  ;  to  Copleston 
himself,  to  Whately,  Keble,  Davison,  Hawkins,  I 

Vl  The  first  Public  Examination  was  held  in  1802.  Two  men 
were  placed  in  the  First  Class  :  Abel  Hendy,  who  died  in  1808  ; 
John  Mariiott,  the  friend  of  Walter  Scott,  who  dedicated  to  him 
the  Second  Canto  of  "  Marmion.'' 



j  Hampden,  Arnold;  men  who  formed  in  Oxford 
what  was  known  as  the  Noetic  School,  maintaining 
around  them  a  continuing  dialectical  and  mental  fer- 
ment. Tommy  Short  used  to  say  that  Davison  and 
Whately  habitually  crammed  for  after-dinner  talk ; 
and  unfortunate  outlanders,  whose  digestion  of  the 
dinner  and  enjoyment  of  the  port  wine  was  spoiled 
by  it,  complained  that  Oriel  Common  Room  stunk 
of  logic.  A  country  clergyman  once,  after  listening 
to  Whately' s  talk  throughout  the  evening,  thanked 
him  formally  for  the  pains  he  had  taken  to  instruct 
him.  "Oh,  no,"  said  Whately,  "not  instruct;  I  did 
not  mean  to  be  didactic ;  but  one  sometimes  likes 
having  an  anvil  on  which  to  beat  out  one's  thoughts." 
Amongst  them  too  was  Blanco  White — Hyperion 
they  called  him,  as  Copleston  was  Saturn — adopted 
not  only  into  Oriel,  but  into  English  society  and 
the  English  Church.  He  is  believed  to  have  not 
written,  but  inspired  Hampden's  famous  Bampton 
Lectures  :  an  old  survivor  of  those  days,  Canon 
Hinds  Howell,  White's  pupil  at  the  time,  told  me 
how  day  after  day  for  months  before  they  were 
delivered  Hampden  was  closeted  with  Blanco. 
Whately  was  a  prominent  Oxford  figure,  with  bla- 
tant voice,  great  stride,  rough  dress.  I  remember 
my  mother's  terror  when  he  came  to  call.  She  had 
met  him  in  the  house  of  newly-married  Mrs.  Baden- 
Powell,  who  had  filled  her  drawing-room  with  the 
spider-legged  chairs  just  then  coming  into  fashion. 
On  one  of  these  sat  Whately,  swinging,  plunging, 
and  shifting  on  his  seat  while  he  talked.  An  omin- 
ous crack  was  heard  ;  a  leg  of  the  chair  had  given 

•  way;  he  tossed  it  on  to  the  sofa  without  comment, 


and  impounded  another  chair.     The  history  of  the  ' 
Noetic  school  has  not  been  written  ;  its  interest  was 
obscured  by  the  reactionary  movement  on  which  so, 
many  pens  have  worked. 

I  cross,  for  the  present  only,  from  Oriel  to 
Christchurch,  and  encounter  sailing  out  of  Peck- 
water  a  very  notable  Canon  of  "the  House/'  Dr. 
Bull.  Tall,  portly,  handsome,  beautifully  dressed 
and  groomed — he  was  known  as  Jemmy  Jessamy 
in  his  youth — I  hail  him  as  type  of  the  ornamental 
Don.  For  of  Dons  there  were  four  kinds.  There 
was  the  cosmopolitan  Don  ;  with  a  home  in  Oxford, 
but  conversant  with  select  humanity  elsewhere ; 
like  Addison  and  Prior  in  their  younger  days,  Tom 
Warton  in  the  Johnsonian  era,  Philip  Duncan  in 
my  recollection ;  at  home  in  coffee  house,  club, 
theatre ;  sometimes  in  Parliament,  like  Charles 
Neate  ;  sometimes  at  Court,  like  William  Bathurst 
of  All  Souls,  Clerk  to  the  Privy  Council.  There 
was  the  learned  Don,  amassing  a  library,  editing 
Latin  authors  and  Greek  plays,  till  his  useful  career 
was  extinguished  under  an  ill-placed,  ill-fitting 
mitre.  There  was  the  meer  Don,  as  Sir  Thomas 
Overbury  calls  him  ;  Head  of  a  House  commonly 
as  the  resultant  of  a  squabble  amongst  the  electing 
Fellows,  with  a  late-married  wife  as  uncouth  and 
uneducated  as  himself,  forming  with  a  few  affluent 
saddles  an  exclusive,  pompous,  ignorant,  lazy  set, 
"respecting  no  man  in  the  University,  and  re- 
spected by  no  man  out  of  it."  Lastly,  the  orna- 
mentalDon  ;  representative proxenus to  distinguished 
strangers,  chosen  as  Proctor  or  Vice-Chancellor 
against  a  probable  Installation  or  Royal  visit. 


Bull  played  this  part  to  perfection,  as  did  Dr. 
Wellesley  in  the  next  generation.  He  had  gained 
his  double  first  and  kindred  decorations  as  a 
young  man,  but  promotion  early  and  plural  lighted 
on  his  head,  promotion,  not  to  posts  which  tax 
and  generate  effort,  but  to  cushioned  ease  of 
canonries ;  and  he  dropped  into  the  manager  of 
Chapter  legislations  and  surveyor  of  College  pro- 
perties ;  a  butterfly  of  the  most  gorgeous  kind, 
a  Morpho,  such  as  dear  old  Westwood  used  to 
unveil  before  visitors  to  his  museum,  yet  still  only 
a  butterfly.  He  was  a  man  of  pluck  and  deter- 
mination ;  his  overthrow  of  redoubtable  Bishop 
Philpotts  was  immortalised  by  a  delightful  cartoon 
in  an  early  Punch — a  bishop  tossed  by  a  bull ; 
he  had  the  manner  of  a  royal  personage ;  you 
must  follow  his  lead  and  accept  his  dicta;  but 
he  was  a  generous,  kindly  Dives,  of  a  day  when 
Lazarus  had  not  come  to  the  front  with  unem- 
ployed and  democratic  impeachments,  to  drop 
flies  into  the  fragrant  ointment,  to  insinuate 
scruples  as  to  the  purple  and  fine  linen,  to  predict 
the  evolutionary  downfall  of  those  who  toil  not 
neither  spin.  He  would  be  impossible  at  the 
present  day,  and  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well.  He 
was  Canon  of  Christchurch,  Canon  of  Exeter, 
Prebendary  of  York,  and  held  the  good  College 
living  of  Staverton,  all  at  once : — 

"  On  the  box  with  Will  Whip,  ere  the  days  of  the  Rail, 
To  London  I  travelled  ;  and  inside  the  mail 
Was  a  Canon  of  Exeter  ;  on  the  same  perch 
Was  a  Canon  of  Oxford's  Episcopal  Church. 
Next  came  one  who  held — I  will  own  the  thing  small — 
In  the  Minster  of  York  a  prebendary  stall. 


And  there  sate  a  Parson,  all  pursy  and  fair, 

With  a  Vicarage  fat  and  five  hundred  a  year. 

Now,  good  reader,  perhaps  you  will  deem  the  coach  full  ? 

No— there  was  but  one  traveller — DOCTOR  JOHN  BULL  ! " 

An  oddiiypar  excellence  was  the  "  Senior  Fellow  "  : 
an  oddity  then,  a  palaeozoic  memory  now.  He 
vanished  with  the  Forties ;  Railways,  New  Museums, 
University  Commissions,  were  too  much  for  him. 
He  was  no  mere  senior,  primus  inter  pares  only 
in  respect  of  age ;  he  was  exceptional,  solitary, 
immemorial ;  in  the  College  but  not  of  it ;  left 
stranded  by  a  generation  which  had  passed  ;  a  great 
gulf  in  habits,  years,  associations,  lay  between  the 
existing  Common  Room  and  himself.  He  mostly 
lived  alone ;  the  other  men  treated  him  deferen- 
tially and  called  him  Mister ;  he  met  them  in  Hall 
on  Gaudy  days  and  was  sometimes  seen  in  Chapel ; 
but  no  one  ever  dropped  in  upon  him,  smoked 
with  him,  walked  with  him ;  he  was  thought  to 
have  a  history ;  a  suspicion  of  disappointment 
hung  over  him  ;  he  lived  his  own  eccentric,  friend- 
less life,  a  victim  to  superannuation  and  celibacy. 

Not  a  few  of  these  venerable  waifs  come  back  to 
me  from  early  years.  There  was  old  Tom  Davies, 
Senior  Fellow  of  Jesus,  visible  every  day  from 
3  to  4  P.M.,  when  he  walked  alone  in  all  weathers 
twice  round  Christchurch  meadow.  He  was  the 
finest  judge  of  wine  in  Oxford — "the  nose  of 
kaut-go4t  and  the  tip  of  taste" — could,  it  was 
believed,  tell  a  vintage  accurately  by  the  smell. 
Joyous  was  the  Common  Room  steward  who 
could  call  in  his  judgment  to  aid  in  the  purchase 
of  pipe  or  butt.  He  refused  all  the  most  valuable 


College  livings  in  turn,  because  the  underground 
cellars  of  their  parsonages  were  inadequate ;  lived 
and  died  in  his  rooms,  consuming  meditatively, 
like  Mr.  Tulkinghorn,  a  daily  cob-webbed  bottle 
of  his  own  priceless  port. 

There  was  old  Dr.  Ellerton,  Senior  Fellow  of 
Magdalen,  who  used  to  totter  out  of  Chapel  with 
the  President  on  a  Sunday.  I  have  seen  a  laugh- 
able sketch  of  the  pair,  as  Shuttleworth,  Warden  of 
New  College,  a  dexterous  caricaturist,  spied  them 
from  his  window  shuffling  along  New  College  Lane 
to  a^convocation.  Coaevals  they  appeared,  but  Routh 
was  really  the  senior  by  ten  years.  As  time  went 
on,  Routh's  intellect  survived  his  friend's  ;  he  came 
to  shake  his  wig  at  the  mention  of  Ellerton's  name; 
and  say,  "  he  is  grown  old  and  foolish,  sir."  He  was 
a  mild  Hebrew  scholar,  and  is  embalmed  as  co- 
founder  with  Dr.  Pusey  of  the  small  annual  prize 
known  as  the  Pusey  and  Ellerton  Scholarship.  His 
rooms  were  at  the  corner  of  the  quadrangle,  looking 
on  to  the  deer  park  and  the  great  plane  tree.  He 
was  a  picturesquely  ugly  man ;  the  gargoyle  above 
his  window  was  a  portrait,  hardly  an  exaggeration, 
of  his  grotesque  old  face.  Years  before,  when  the 
building  was  restored  and  he  was  College  tutor,  the 
undergraduates  had  bribed  the  sculptor  to  fashion 
there  in  stone  the  visage  of  their  old  Damcetas ;  he 
detected  the  resemblance,  and  insisted  angrily  on 
alteration.  Altered  the  face  was  :  cheeks  and 
temples  hollowed,  jaw-lines  deepened,  similitude 
for  the  time  effaced.  But  gradually  the  unkind 
invisible  chisel  of  old  age  worked  upon  his  own 
octogenarian  countenance ;  his  own  cheek  was 


hollowed,  his  own  jaw  contracted,  till  the  quaint 
projecting  mask  became  again  a  likeness  even  more 
graphic  than  before. 

I  remember  old  Mr.  Rudd,  Senior  Fellow  of  Oriel 
since  1819,  who  appeared  always  at  the  Gaudy  in 
black  shorts  and  silk  stockings,  travelling  up  from 
Northampton  in  a  fly,  and  spending  two  days  on 
the  journey.  Then  I  knew  Edward  Quicke,  of  New 
College,  whose  one  lingering  senile  passion  was  for 
tandem-driving  ;  the  famous  "  Arter-Xerxes  "  story 
had  its  source  in  his  groom  and  him.  Twice  a  day 
he  might  be  seen,  sitting  melancholy  behind  his 
handsome  pair  along  the  roads  round  Oxford.  He 
died,  I  may  say,  in  harness  ;  for  one  dark  night  in 
the  vacation  he  was  run  down  near  Woodstock 
by  two  scouts,  and  succumbed  in  a  few  days  to  his 
injuries.  With  him  was  old  Eastwick,  who  after 
spending  some  years,  poor  fellow,  in  a  lunatic 
asylum,  reappeared  to  end  his  days  in  College. 
He  had  once,  we  supposed,  been  young  ;  had  lived 
and  loved  and  gathered  rosebuds  ;  had  certainly 
begun  life  as  a  briefless  barrister.  At  a  Gaudy 
dinner  once  sardonic  Shuttleworth  congratulated 
him  "  on  an  accession  to  his  income."  "  I  beg  your 

pardon,  Mr.  Warden,  I  was  not  aware "     "Oh  ! 

I  beg  yours,  but  I  was  told  that  you  had  left  o 
going  circuit."  He  came  back  from  durance  vile  a 
quiet,  watery-eyed,  lean  old  man,  looking  like  a 
scarecrow  in  good  circumstances,  dining  in  Hall, 
where  he  was  mostly  silent,  yet  broke  out  curiously 
sometimes  with  reminiscences,  forbodings,  protests  ; 
spent  the  livelong  day  in  eradicating  dandelions 
from  the  large  grass-plat  in  the  front  quadrangle, 


his  coat-tails  falling  over  his  shoulders  as  he  stooped, 
and  leaving  him,  like  the  poor  Indian  of  the  parody, 
"  bare  behind."  Once  more  there  was  old  Maude, 
of  Queen's,  one  of  the  detenus  as  they  were  called — 
the  ten  thousand  English  tourists  seized  brutally  by 
Napoleon  when  war  was  suddenly  declared  in  1803, 
and  kept  in  prison  till  his  abdication.  Maude  came 
back  to  Oxford,  eleven  years  of  his  life  wiped  out 
and  his  contemporaries  passed  away,  to  live  alone 
in  his  old-fashioned,  scantily  furnished  rooms,  where 
I  remember  his  giving  me  breakfast  in  my  school- 
days and  quoting  to  me  Dr.  Johnson's  "Vanity 
of  Human  Wishes." 

These  were  curios  of  no  great  native  force — 
spectacular  oddities  merely ;  two  more  remain, 
whose  amusing  outbreaks  of  indecorum  and  forcible 
gifts  of  speech  deserve  a  longer  notice  :  Dr.  Frowd, 
of  Corpus,  and  "  Mo."  Griffith,  of  Merton.  Frowd 
was  a  very  little  man,  an  irrepressible,  unwearied 
chatterbox,  with  a  droll  interrogative  face,  a  bald 
shining  head,  and  a  fleshy  under-lip,  which  he  could 
push  up  nearly  to  his  nose.  He  had  been  chaplain 
to  Lord  Exmouth,  and  was  present  at  the  bom- 
bardment of  Algiers.  As  the  action  thickened  he 
was  seized  with  a  comical  religious  frenzy,  dashing 
round  the  decks,  and  diffusing  spiritual  exhortation 
amongst  the  half-stripped,  busy  sailors,  till  the  first 
lieutenant  ordered  a  hencoop  to  be  clapped  over 
him,  whence  his  little  head  emerging  continued  its 
devout  cackle,  quite  regardless  of  the  balls  which 
flew  past  him  and  killed  eight  hundred  sailors  in 
our  small  victorious  fleet.  Lord  Exmouth  rescued 
him  from  this  incarceration,  and  to  keep  him  out  of 


mischief  set  him  to  unload  and  pack  a  large  crate  of 
port  wine,  presenting  him  with  three  dozen  for  him- 
self. This  gift  was  his  pride  through  life  ;  very  rarely 
drunk,  but  boasted  of  to  every  guest  in  Common 
Room.  At  his  death  his  will  bequeathed  to  the 
Rev.  George  Hext,  a  brother  Fellow,  "  all  my  wine 
in  Corpus  College  cellars."  It  amounted  only  to 
seven  surviving  bottles  of  the  famous  port ;  the 
deprome  quadrimum  must  have  been  repeated  more 
frequently  than  was  supposed.  He  was  a  preacher 
of  much  force  and  humour,  if  only  one  had  the  self- 
possession  risum  tenere.  I  heard  him  once  in  St. 
Clement's  Church  deliver  a  sermon  on  Jonah,  which 
roused  up  his  congregation  quite  as  effectually  as  the 
shipmaster  wakened  the  sleepy  prophet.  "  There's 
a  man  in  this  church  who  never  says  his  prayers  : 
lies  down  at  night,  rises  in  the  morning,  without  a 
word  of  gratitude  or  adoration  for  the  God  who 
made  him  and  has  preserved  him.  Now,  I  have  a 
message  to  that  man — what  meanest  thou,  O  thou 
sleeper  ?  arise,"  &c.,  &c.  "  Hell,"  he  began  another 
time,  with  a  knowing  wag  of  his  droll  head,  "  Hell 
is  a  place  which  men  believe  to  be  reserved  for 
those  who  are  a  great  deal  worse  than  themselves." 
Presently  he  became  husky,  drew  out  a  lozenge 
and  sat  down  in  the  pulpit  to  masticate  it  leisurely, 
while  we  looked  at  one  another,  wished  that  we  had 
lozenges,  and  awaited  the  consumption  of  his  lubri- 
cant. In  reading  chapters  from  the  Old  Testament, 
he  used  to  pause  at  a  marginal  variation,  read  it  to 
himself  half  audibly,  and,  like  Dr.  Blimber,  smile  on 
it  auspiciously  or  knit  his  brow  and  shake  his  head 
in  disapproval.  I  remember  too  his  preaching  in  All 


Saints  Church,  of  which  Thompson,  afterwards 
rector  of  Lincoln,  was  incumbent.  He  climbed  up 
the  steep  three-decker  steps  into  the  high-walled 
pulpit,  and  disappeared,  till,  his  hands  clinging 
to  the  desk  and  his  comical  face  peering  over 
it,  he  called  down  into  the  reading  desk  below, 
"  Thompson,  send  up  a  hassock."  A  College  living 
was  offered  to  him  :  and  a  funeral  being  due,  he 
went  down  to  bury  the  dead  and  survey  the  place. 
Arrived  at  the  nearest  railway  station,  he  found  no 
conveyance  except  a  carriage  which  had  just  de- 
posited a  wedding  party.  Into  this  he  jumped — 
coachman,  whip,  horses,  being  all  decked  with 
favours — met  the  mournful  procession,  and  finding 
the  churchyard  path  muddy,  climbed  on  the  white- 
ribboned  driver's  back,  and  was  borne  to  the  church 
in  front  of  the  coffin  amid  the  cheers  and  laughter 
of  the  amateur  onlookers,  who  in  the  country  as- 
semble always  at  these  instructive  functions.  He 
accepted  the  living  after  this  escapade,  but  the 
College  refused  to  present  him,  and  were  sustained 
on  his  appeal  to  the  Visitor.  To  another  prank 
they  were  unjustifiably  lenient.  A  contested  election 
of  a  member  for  the  University  was  proceeding,  the 
excitement  high  and  the  voting  close.  Frowd 
paired  with  four  men  against  one  of  the  candidates, 
then  went  up  and  voted.  A  London  club  would 
have  expelled  a  man  for  such  a  feat ;  but  Frowd 
seems  to  have  been  looked  upon  as  a  chartered 
libertine,  and  the  offence  was  passed  over  on  receipt 
of  an  unintelligibly  remorseful  letter — "You  have 
from  me  a  poenitet  in  duodecimo  and  a  habes  con- 
fitentem  reum  in  quarto  " — with  a  request,  however, 


that  he  would  absent  himself  from  the  College  for  a 
twelvemonth.  His  rooms  were  on  the  second  floor 
looking  out  into  the  meadow ;  in  the  room  below 
him  lived  Holme,  a  more  advanced  Bedlamite  even 
than  himself,  a  pleasant  fellow  as  I  remember  him 
in  his  interlunar  periods,  but  who  died,  I  believe,  in 
an  asylum.  Frowd  used  to  take  exercise  on  wet 
days  by  placing  chairs  at  intervals  round  his  room 
and  jumping  over  them.  Holme,  a  practical  being, 
one  day  fired  a  pistol  at  his  ceiling  while  these 
gymnastics  were  proceeding,  and  the  bullet  whizzed 
past  Frowd,  who,  less  unconcerned  than  at  Algiers, 
ran  downstairs,  put  his  head  into  the  room,  and 
cried,  "  Would  you,  bloody-minded  man,  would 
you  ? "  The  feeling  in  the  Common  Room  was 
said  to  be  regret  that  the  bullet  had  not  been 
billeted ;  Frowd  would  have  ceased  to  exasperate, 
Holme  would  have  been  incarcerated  or  hanged, 
the  College  rid  of  both. 

Moses  Griffith  was  son  to  a  physician  of  the  same 
name.  In  the  hospital  where  the  father  practised 
a  particular  kind  of  poultice  was  long  known  as 
a  "mogriff."  The  son,  objecting  to  the  nickname 
"  Mo,"  obtained  the  royal  licence  to  bear  the  name 
of  Edwards,  gradually  dropping  the  Moses  and  the 
final  letter  s,  and  appearing  in  the  later  University 
Calendar  as  Edward  Griffith ;  but  though  gods 
might  call  him  Edward,  mortals  called  him  "  Mo." 
Twice  in  the  year  he  was  compelled  to  sign  his  true 
name  on  receiving  a  dividend  ;  and  it  was  not  well 
to  go  near  him  at  those  times.  He  was  much  more 
than  an  oddity — a  real  wit,  racy  in  ironical  talk, 
prompt  in  bitter  or  diverting  repartee.  In  younger 


days  he  was  Whitehall  Preacher,  an  appointment 
then  made  for  life  ;  but  became  so  tedious  as  time 
passed  that  the  Bishop  of  London,  Howley,  called 
on  him  to  suggest  his  retirement.  He  was  over- 
powered by  Mo's  formal  politeness,  and  came  away 
discomfited ;  and  Griffith  remained  until  Blom- 
field,  succeeding  to  the  bishopric,  dismissed  all  the 
preachers,  and  replaced  the  best  of  them  under 
fresh  rules,  mainly  in  order  to  get  rid  of  Mo.1  If 
you  wished  to  rouse  his  anger,  you  had  only  to  men- 
tion Bishop  Blomfield,  who  had  thus  righteously 
deposed  him  from  his  Whitehall  preachership. 
"  Sir,  he  was  born  a  blackguard ;  he's  a  Bury  St. 
Edmund's  blackguard,  and  he'll  die  a  blackguard." 
Blomfield's  father  kept  a  school  at  Bury,  and  the 
future  Bishop  was  there  born,  and  was  educated  at 
the  Grammar  School.  Mo.  disliked  the  free  use  of 
oaths  in  conversation  :  one  of  the  Senior  Fellows, 

W ,  retained  this  fault  of  his  blood,  as  Queen 

Elizabeth  called  it,  rather  too  faithfully ;  his  every 
sixth  or  seventh  word  began  with  the  letter  D. 
Bishop  Hobhouse,  lately  dead — laus  illi  debetur  et  a 
me  gratia  maior — remembered  Griffith  one  day  fol- 
lowing W out  of  the  Common  Room,  and  call- 
ing through  his  door  :  "  Mr.  W ,  Mr.  W , 

Walter  Kerr  says  he  won't  dine  in  Hall  if  you 
continue  to  swear."  Walter  Kerr  Hamilton  was 
Denison's  Curate  at  St.  Peter's,  and  afterwards 
Bishop  of  Salisbury.  But  Mo.  was  not  quite  free 
from  the  habit  himself ;  I  was  told  by  Archdeacon 
Bree  that,  returning  one  day  from  a  powerful 

1  A  history  of  the  Whitehall  preacherships  is  given  in  the 
Appendix  S. 


sermon  at  St.  Mary's  against  profane  swearing,  he 

was  overheard  saying  to  himself,  "  I'm  d d  if  I 

ever  swear  again."     W was  a  curious  survival ; 

a  little,  made-up  old  man,  with  the  habits  and  the 
talk  of  long-ago  West  End  clubs,  attired  always 
for  evening  dress  in  a  satin  scarf  and  a  finely 
embroidered  waistcoat.  Going  once  to  preach  at 
Wolvercot,  Mo.  took  with  him  William  Karslake,  a 
young  Fellow  of  the  College,  who  had  found  favour 
in  his  eyes.  "  How  did  you  like  my  sermon,  sir  ?  " 
was  the  first  question,  as  they  walked  through  the 
fields  homewards.  "A  very  fine  sermon,  Mr. 
Griffith ;  perhaps  a  little  above  the  audience." 
"Audience,  my  friend.  I  suppose  these  dear 
young  turnip-tops  would  understand  my  sermon 
as  readily  as  those  rustics.  Sir,  that  was  a  White- 
hall sermon."  He  sometimes  read  the  service  at 
Holywell,  a  Merton  living.  The  lesson  happened 
to  be  the  third  chapter  of  St.  Luke.  Griffith  read 
on  till  he  came  to  the  formidable  pedigree  at  the 
end.  "  Which  was  the  son  of  Heli,"  he  began ; 
then,  glancing  at  the  genealogical  Banquo-line 
which  follows — "  the  rest  concerns  neither  you 
nor  me,  so  here  endeth  the  Second  Lesson."  He 
used  to  attend  the  St.  Mary's  afternoon  service. 
A  prolonged  University  sermon  had  retarded  the 
parish  service,  and  it  was  near  five  o'clock  when 
Copeland,  who  sometimes  preached  for  Newman, 
approached  the  pulpit.  He  was  stopped  in  the 
aisle  by  Griffith,  who  said  in  one  of  his  stentorian 
asides,  "  I  am  grieved  to  quit  you,  Mr.  Copeland, 
but  Merton  College  dines  at  five." 

He  spent  the  Oxford  term-times  usually  at  Bath 


— "  City  of  Balls  and  Beggars  "  he  was  wont  to 
superscribe  his  letters  thence — hating  the  sight  of 
the  Philistines,  as  he  called  the  undergraduates. 
"  Fetch  a  screen,  Manciple,"  he  said  one  day,  when 
dining  alone  in  Hall  he  beheld  a  belated  solitary 
scholar  who  had  not  gone  down  ;  but  he  resided  in 
the  vacations,  and  always  attended  College  meet- 
ings. The  late  Warden,  I  have  heard,  used  to  relate 
that  when  he  was  candidate  for  a  Fellowship  and 
Griffith  came  up  to  vote,  his  colleagues  tried  to 
impress  upon  him  the  duty  of  awarding  the  Fellow- 
ship according  to  the  examiners'  verdict.  "  Sir," 
said  Mo.,  "  I  came  here  to  vote  for  my  old  friend's 
son,  and  vote  for  him  I  shall,  whatever  the  exa- 
miners may  say."  He  would  sometimes  bring  a 
guest  to  the  College  dinner,  watching  anxiously 
over  his  prowess  with  the  knife  and  fork.  Ab- 
stemiousness he  could  not  abide  :  Dr.  Wootten,  an 
Oxford  physician,  dined  with  him  one  day,  and  did 
scant  justice  to  the  dishes:  "  My  maxim,  Mr.  Griffith, 
is  to  eat  and  leave  off  hungry."  Mo.  threw  up  his 
hands  as  he  was  wont :  "  Eat  and  leave  off  hungry  ! 
Why  not  wash  and  leave  off  dirty  ?  "  So  often  as  a 
haunch  of  venison  was  announced  for  the  high 
table,  he  would  invite  my  father,  a  renowned  diner- 
out  in  former  days,  but  made  domestic  by  tarda 
podagra.  I  remember  his  exit  once,  fuming  at  my 
father's  refusal.  "  My  friend,"  laying  hand  upon 
his  sleeve,  "  you  will  eat  mutton  till  the  wool  grows 
out  of  your  coat."  Once,  at  a  large  party  in  our 
house,  good-natured,  loquacious  Mrs.  Routh,  the 
President  of  Magdalen's  wife,  addressed  him. 
"  Mr.  Griffith,  do  you  ever  take  carriage  exercise ; 


rive  in  a  fly,  I  mean  ?  "  "  Madam,  I  thank  God 
I  am  not  quite  such  a  blackguard."  He  used  to 
ask  me  to  his  rooms  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  regale 
me  with  strawberries.  He  would  make  me  recite 
poetry  to  him— the  "  Elegy,"  "  Sweet  Auburn," 
"  The  Traveller,"  which  I  knew  by  heart — rewarding 
me  with  presents  of  books ;  on  one  occasion  with  a 
fine  set  of  Pope's  "  Homer "  in  eleven  volumes, 
bearing  the  bookplate  of  Edward  Griffith.  Much 
later,  and  shortly  before  his  death,  I  met  him  at  a 
Merton  dinner.  Edmund  Hobhouse  had  brought 
Sir  Benjamin  Brodie.  "Who  is  that  gentleman  ?" 
asked  Griffith  in  his  sonorous  whisper.  He  was 
told.  A  pause,  during  which  Mo.  glared  at  the 
great  surgeon;  then  the  word  "  Butcher!"  was 
heard  to  hiss  along  the  table.  He  comes  before  me 

Bin  an  unbrushed  beaver  hat,  a  black  coat  and  waist- 
coat, nankeen  trousers,  and  low  shoes,  with  a  vast 
interval  of  white  stocking.  Requiescat  in  Pace! 



"  We  will  be  wise  in  time:  what  though  our  ivork 
Be  fashioned  in  despite  of  their  ill- service. 
Be  crippled  every  way  ?    '  Twere  little  praise 
Did  full  resources  wait  on  our  good  will 
At  every  turn.    Let  all  be  as  it  is." 


Dr.  Daubeny— His  Physic  Garden — His  Monkeys  and  their  Eman- 
cipation— A  Pioneer  of  Science — Buckland  and  his  Friends — 
His  Wife — His  Lectures — A  Scotch  Sceptic  and  how  he  was 
Silenced — The  Buckland  Menage — The  Buckland  Collection  in 
the  Oxford  Museum — Baden-Powell — Thomas,  the  Holywell 
Glazier — Chapman,  the  Discoverer  of  Cetiosaurus. 

PRESCIENTIFIC  unquestionably :  in  the  Thirties 
the  Oxford  mind  was  inscient ;  its  attitude  first 
contemptuous,  then  hostile,  towards  the  science 
that,  invita  Minerva,  was  hatching  in  its  midst ;  a 
strange,  new,  many-headed,  assertive  thing,  claim- 
ing absurdly  to  take  rank  with  the  monopolist 
Humanities  of  Donland,  not  altogether  without 
concealed  intent  to  challenge  and  molest  the 
ancient,  solitary  reign  of  its  theology.  Yet  science 
none  the  less  there  was,  sustained  by  at  least 
three  famous  names,  making  possible  the  Phillips, 
Brodie,  Rolleston  of  a  later  date.  Its  first  repre- 
sentative of  note  was  Daubeny ;  Doctor,  not  Pro- 
fessor, Daubeny ;  Professor  as  a  titular  prefix 
<  came  in  much  later  ;  came,  I  am  told,  through 


From  a  Photograph  taken  in  1860 


ie  Scottish  Universities,  which  had  borrowed  it 
from  Germany.  First  Class  and  Fellow  of  Mag- 
dalen, he  early  forsook  practice  as  a  physician 
to  devote  himself  to  pure  science  ;  as  a  pupil  of 
Jameson,  Professor  of  Geology  at  Edinburgh,  he 
studied,  fifty  years  before  his  time,  what  is  now 
known  and  valued  as  "  Petrology  "  ;  became  widely 
known  by  his  works  on  the  " Atomic  Theory"  and 
on  "  Volcanic  Action  "  ;  and  when  Dr.  Williams 
died  in  1834,  succeeded  him  as  professor  of 
chemistry,  botany,  rural  economy,  taking  up  his 
abode  in  the  house  built  newly  at  the  entrance 
to  Magdalen  bridge.  He  lectured,  experimented, 
wrote  ;  his  books  on  Roman  husbandry,  and  on 
the  trees  and  shrubs  of  the  ancients,  are  still  in- 
valuable to  the  Virgilian  scholar  ;  he  carried  out 
elaborately  and  with  improved  devices  Pouchet's 
experiments  on  spontaneous  generation,  was  the 
first  to  welcome  and  extend  in  England  Schon- 
bein's  discovery  of  ozone.  His  chemistry  lectures 
were  a  failure  ;  he  lacked  physical  force,  sprightli- 
ness  of  manner,  oral  readiness,  and  his  demonstra- 
tions invariably  went  wrong.  But  his  lectures  drew 
many  noted  University  men  ;  Pusey,  Whately,  Tait, 
Thomson,  Charles  Neate,  Mark  Pattison,  Liddell, 
Acland,  Ruskin,  Frank  Buckland,  are  all  inscribed 
in  his  Pupil-book,  which  the  College  still  preserves.  \ 
He  lavished  care  and  money  on  his  "  Physic 
Garden,"  introducing  De  Candolle's  system  side 
by  side  with  the  old  Linnaean  beds,  building  new 
and  spacious  houses,  in  which  flourished  the 
Victoria  lily,  to  be  seen  elsewhere  for  a  long  time 
only  at  Kew  and  Chatsworth,  and  where  the  aloe 



produced  its  one  bloom  of  the  century,  its  great 
raceme  rising  in  seven  days  to  the  height  of  four- 
and-twenty  feet.  He  cared  little  for  outdoor 
plants,  and  could  not  condescend  to  rudimentary 
teaching ;  educational  botany,  prospering  at  Cam- 
bridge under  Henslow,  took  no  hold  of  Oxford. 
But  it  was  pleasant  to  walk  with  him  round  the 
garden,  and  to  hear  his  disquisitions  on  the  Scam- 
mony  and  Christ's  Thorn,  the  Weeping  Willow 
from  Pope's  Twickenham  Garden,  the  Paestum  Rose, 
the  Birthwort  from  Godstow  ruins,  the  Mandrake 
under  the  Conservatory  wall,  the  Sibthorpia  and 
Orontium  in  the  little  copper  cisterns  long  swept 
away :  and  happily,  the  garden  was  for  nearly 
eighty  years  in  the  care  of  the  two  Baxters,  father 
and  son,  both  of  them  amongst  the  best  exponents 
in  England  of  our  native  Flora.  Their  assiduity 
and  knowledge  resulted  in  a  collection  of  hardy 
growths,  exceptional  in  healthiness  and  size, 
arranged  with  little  rigidity  of  system,  but,  with 
deference  to  each  plant's  idiosyncrasies,  in  spots 
which  the  experimental  tenderness  of  near  a  cen- 
tury showed  to  be  appropriate.  They  laboured 
for  a  posterity  which  hastened  to  undo  their  work. 
New  brooms  swept  the  unique  old  garden  clean  ; 
young  men  arose  who  knew  not  Joseph  ;  young 
men  in  a  hurry  to  produce  a  little  Kew  upon  the 
incongruous  Cherwell  banks, 

Parvam  Trojam,  simulataque  magnis 
Pergama,  et  arentem  Xanthi  cognomine  rivum. 

So  the  time-honoured  array  was  broken  up,  Baxter 
fits  cashiered,  the  Linnaean  borders  razed,  the 


monumental  plants  uprooted.  Thus  I  wrote  in 
1900 ;  but  better  times  have  followed.  The 
disaster  has  been  repaired  by  the  assiduity,  zeal, 
knowledge,  of  the  present  professor,  and  his 
accomplished  assistant  Mr.  W.  G.  Baker ;  and 
the  garden  is  again  amongst  the  most  delightful 
spots  in  Oxford. 

One  of  Daubeny's  fads  was  a  collection  of 
monkeys,  which  he  kept  in  a  cage  let  into  the 
Danby  gateway.  One  night  the  doors  were  forced 
and  the  monkeys  liberated,  to  be  captured  next 
day  wandering  dismal  on  the  Iffley  road,  or 
perched  crepitantes  dentibus,  on  the  railings  in 
Rose  Lane.  The  culprit  was  not  known  at  the 
time  ;  it  was  mad  Harry  Wilkins,  of  Merton,  who 
had  sculled  up  the  river  after  dark  and  so  gained 
access  to  the  locked-up  gardens.  Daubeny  was 
pained  by  the  foolish  insult,  and  the  menagerie 
was  dispersed.  He  was  genial  and  chatty  in 
society ;  in  College  Hall,  or  at  evening  parties, 
which  he  much  frequented,  we  met  the  little,  droll, 
spectacled,  old-fashioned  figure,  in  gilt-buttoned 
blue  tail  coat,  velvet  waistcoat,  satin  scarf,  kid 
gloves  too  long  in  the  fingers,  a  foot  of  bright 
bandanna  handkerchief  invariably  hanging  out  be- 
hind. Or  we  encountered  him  on  Sunday  after- 
noons, in  doctor's  hood  and  surplice,  tripping  up 
the  steps  which  led  to  the  street,  shuffling  into 
Chapel,  always  late  ;  cross  old  Mundy,  the  College 
porter,  dispossessing  some  unfortunate  stranger  to 
make  way  for  him  in  the  stalls.  But  with  all  his 
retirement  he  did  his  work  as  a  witness  to  the 
necessity  of  science  ;  pleaded  in  pamphlets,  letters, 


speeches,  for  its  introduction  into  the  University 
course,  pressed  on  his  own  College  successfully 
the  establishment  of  science  scholarships,  helped 
on  the  time  when,  not  in  the  Thirties,  scarcely  in 
the  Forties,  the  hour  and  the  man  should  come. 
He  lived  into  old  age,  active  to  the  last.  Shortly 
before  his  death  he  visited  me  in  Somersetshire, 
to  meet  his  former  schoolfellow,  Lord  Taunton. 
The  two  old  men  had  not  seen  each  other  since 
they  slept  in  the  same  room  at  Winchester  fifty- 
five  years  before,  along  with  one  of  the  Barings, 
and  Ford,  author  afterwards  of  the  if  Handbook 
to  Spain."  It  was  pleasant  to  hear  the  chirping 
reminiscences  of  the  successful  veterans,  boys  once 
again  together.  He  died  in  1867,  and  lies  at  rest 
beneath  the  stone  pulpit  in  the  Chapel  court. 
A  memorial  tablet  in  the  antechapel  bears  a 
Latin  epitaph  from  the  scholarly  pen  of  his  old 
friend  John  Rigaud.  Ever  I  take  off  my  hat 
when  I  pass  his  not  forgotten  grave,  and  pause, 
like  Old  Mortality,  to  clear  encroaching  moss  from 
the  letters  which  perpetuate  his  name. 
f~~  The  second  savant  of  the  time  was  Buckland, 
and  there  was  certainly  no  overlooking  him. 
Elected  Fellow  of  Corpus  in  1809,  he  gave  his 
whole  time  for  ten  years  to  the  fossil-hunting 
begun  by  him  in  the  Winchester  chalkpits  as  a 
boy,  not  then  reduced  into  a  science;  till  in  1819 
the  Prince  Regent,  at  the  instance  of  Sir  Joseph 
Banks,  created  a  professorship  of  geology,  and 
nominated  Buckland  to  the  post.  His  lecture- 
room  in  the  Ashmolean  filled  at  once,  not  so  much 
with  undergraduates  as  with  dons,  attracted  by 



lis  liveliness  and  the  novelty  of  his  subject.  The 
Chancellor,  Lord  Grenville,  visiting  Oxford,  sat 
beside  and  complimented  him  ;  Howley,  afterwards 
Archbishop,  Sir  Philip  Egerton,  so  famous  later  as 
a  collector,  were  among  his  devotees;  Whately, 
Philip  Duncan,  Shuttleworth,  pelted  their  friend 
with  playful  squibs :  "  Some  doubts,"  wrote  Shuttle- 

"  Some  doubts  were  once  expressed  about  the  Flood, 
Buckland  arose,  and  all  was  clear  as — mud." 


Alarms  about  the  Deluge  had  not  yet  been' 
generally  awakened ;  in  his  early  works,  Reliquia 
Diluviancz  and  Vindicice  Geologicce,  he  posed  as 
orthodox  and  reconcilist ;  it  was  not  till  1836  that 
his  Bridgewater  Treatise  roused  the  heresy-hunters, 
that  a  hurricane  of  private  and  newspaper  protests 
whistled  round  his  disregarding  head,  that  Dean 
Gaisford  thanked  God  on  his  departure  for  Italy — 
"We  shall  hear  no  more  of  his  geology" — that 
Pusey  organised  a  protest  against  the  conferring 
a  degree  on  Owen,  and  Keble  clenched  a  bitter 
argument  by  the  conclusive  dogma  that  "when 
God  made  the  stones  He  made  the  fossils  in  them." 
Worse  was  still  to  come ;  the  "  Six  Days "  were 
to  be  impeached ;  the  convenient  formula  "  be- 
fore the  Flood  "  to  be  dispossessed ;  the  old  cos- 
mogony which  puzzled  Mr.  Ephraim  Jenkinson 
to  fade  slowly  from  the  popular  mind,  reposing 
as  a  curiosity,  where  it  still  occasionally  survives, 
amid  the  mental  furniture  of  the  country  clergy  : 
and  in  the  great  awakening  of  knowledge  which 
severed  theology  from  science  and  recast  Biblical  ] 


criticism  he  was  amongst  the  earliest  and  most 
^energetic  pioneers.  The  Clergy,  the  Dons,  the 
Press,  fell  upon  him  all  together ;  "  Keep  the  St. 
James'  Chronicles,"  wrote  to  him  his  wife,  "  every- 
one of  which  has  a  rap  at  you  ;  but  I  beseech 
you  not  to  lower  your  dignity  by  noticing  news- 
paper statements."  Wise  words  !  which  not  every 
wife  would  unreservedly  emit.  Without  her  moral 
aid  and  intellectual  support  Buckland  would  not 
so  lightly  and  so  confidently  have  faced  his  diffi- 
culties and  achieved  his  aims.  An  accomplished 
mineralogist  before  their  marriage,  she  threw  her 
whole  nature  into  her  husband's  work.  She  de- 
ciphered and  transcribed  his  horribly  illegible 
papers,  often  adding  polish  to  their  style ;  and  her 
skilful  fingers  illustrated  many  of  his  books.  Night 
after  night  while  his  Bridgewater  Treatise  was 
in  making,  she  sat  up  writing  from  his  dictation 
till  the  morning  sun  shone  through  the  shutters. 
From  her  came  the  first  suggestion  as  to  the  true 
character  of  the  lias  coprolites.  When,  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  idea  flashed  upon  him 
that  the  Cheirotherium  footsteps  were  testudinal, 
he  woke  his  wife  from  sleep  ;  she  hastened  down 
to  make  pie  crust  upon  the  kitchen  table,  while 
he  fetched  in  the  tortoise  from  the  garden ;  and 
the  pair  soon  saw  with  joint  delight  that  its  im- 
pressions on  the  paste  were  almost  identical  with 
those  upon  the  slabs.  Genial  as  a  hostess,  sympa- 
thetic as  a  friend,  she  was  not  less  exemplary  as 
a  mother.  Her  children,  departed  and  surviving, 
called  and  call  her  blessed  :  "As  good  a  man  and 
wife,"  wrote  Frank  Buckland  of  his  parents,  "as 



ever  did  their  duty  to  God  and  their  fellow- 
creatures."  "  Never,"  says  her  daughter,  "was  a 
word  of  evil  speaking  permitted.  '  My  dear,  edu- 
cated people  always  talk  of  things,  not  persons; 
it  is  only  in  the  servants'  hall  that  people  gossip.' " l 
He  was  a  wonderful  lecturer,  clear,  fluent,  apt, 
overflowing  with  witty  illustrations,  dashing  down 
amongst  us  ever  and  anon  to  enforce  an  intricate 
point  with  Samsonic  wielding  of  a  cave-bear  jaw 
or  a  hyaena  thigh  bone.  Of  questions  from  his 
hearers  he  was  intolerant ;  they  checked  the  rapids 
of  his  talk.  "  It  would  seem,"  queried  a  sceptical 
Caledonian  during  a  lecture  in  North  Britain, 
"that  your  animals  always  walked  in  one  direc- 
tion?" "Yes,"  was  the  reply,  " Cheirotherium 
was  a  Scotchman,  and  he  always  travelled  south." 

Even  more  attractive  than  the  lectures  at  the 
Clarendon  were  the  field  days ;  the  ascent  of  Shot- 
over,  with  pauses  at  each  of  its  six  deposits,  the 
lumps  of  Montlivalvia  hammered  out  from  the 
coralline  oolite,  the  selenite  crystals  higher  up, 
the  questionings  over  the  ironsand  on  the  summit, 
over  the  ochre  and  pipeclay  on  the  rough  moor- 
land long  since  ploughed  into  uninteresting  fer- 
tility. These  are  undergraduate  memories ;  but  I 
recall  much  earlier  days,  when  I  was  wont  to  play 
with  Frank  Buckland  and  his  brother  in  their 
home  at  the  corner  of  Tom  Quad  :  the  entrance 
hall  with  its  grinning  monsters  on  the  low  stair- 

1  An  unconscious  echo  of  Plato  :  "  de£  irepl  avOptiiruv  roi>j 
\6yovs  iroiov/j.ei>ovs,  TJKiffTa  QiXoffoQig,  irptirov  Troiovvras"  "  Ever 
chattering  about  persons,  a  proceeding  quite  inconsistent  with 
philosophy." — Republic,  vi.  12. 


case,  of  whose  latent  capacity  to  arise  and  fall 
upon  me  I  never  quite  overcame  my  doubts  ;  the 
side-table  in  the  dining-room  covered  with  fossils, 
"Paws  off"  in  large  letters  on  a  protecting  card; 
the  very  sideboard  candlesticks  perched  on  saurian 
vertebrae ;  the  queer  dishes  garnishing  the  dinner 
table — horseflesh  I  remember  more  than  once, 
crocodile  another  day,  mice  baked  in  batter  on 
a  third — while  the  guinea-pig  under  the  table  in- 
quiringly nibbled  at  your  infantine  toes,  the  bear 
walked  round  your  chair  and  rasped  your  hand 
with  file-like  tongue,  the  jackal's  fiendish  yell  close 
by  came  through  the  open  window,  the  monkey's 
hairy  arm  extended  itself  suddenly  over  your  shoul- 
der to  annex  your  fruit  and  walnuts.  I  think  the 
Doctor  rather  scared  us ;  we  did  not  understand  his 
sharp,  quick  voice  and  peremptory  manner,  and  pre- 
ferred the  company  of  his  kind,  charming,  highly 
cultured  wife.  Others  found  him  alarming ;  dis- 
honesty and  quackery  of  all  kinds  fled  from  that 
keen,  all-knowing  vision.  When  Tom  Tower  was 
being  repaired,  he  watched  the  workmen  from  his 
window  with  a  telescope,  and  frightened  a  scamp- 
ing mason  whom  he  encountered  descending  from 
the  scaffold  by  bidding  him  go  back  and  bring 
down  that  faulty  piece  of  work  he  had  just  put 
into  a  turret.  At  Palermo,  on  his  wedding  tour, 
he  visited  St.  Rosalia's  shrine, 

The  grot  where  olives  nod, 
Where,  darling  of  each  heart  and  eye, 
From  all  the  youth  of  Sicily 

St.  Rosalie  retired  to  God. 

It  was  opened  by  the  priests,  and  the  relics  of  the 


The  Ansdell  Portrait.     From  Mrs.   Gordons  "Life  of  Buckland"  reproduced  by 
permission  of  the  authoress  and  of  the  publisher,  Mr.  John  Murray 


saint  were  shown.  He  saw  that  they  were  not 
Rosalia's  :  "They  are  the  bones  of  a  goat/'  he 
cried  out,  "not  of  a  woman;''  and  the  sanctuary 
doors  were  abruptly  closed. 

Frank  used  to  tell  of  their  visit  long  afterwards  to 
a  foreign  cathedral,  where  was  exhibited  a  martyr's 
blood — dark  spots  on  the  pavement  ever  fresh  and 
ineradicable.  The  professor  dropped  on  the  pave- 
ment and  touched  the  stain  with  his  tongue.  "  I 
can  tell  you  what  it  is  ;  it  is  bat's  urine  ! " 

I  can  see  him  now,  passing  rapidly  through  the 
quadrangle  and  down  St.  Aldate's— broad-brimmed 
hat,  tail  coat,  umbrella,  great  blue  bag.  This  last 
he  always  carried ;  it  is  shown  in  AnsdelPs  portrait, 
the  best  likeness  of  him  by  far.  Sir  H.  Davy  once 
expected  him,  and,  disappointed,  asked  his  servant 
if  Dr.  Buckland  had  not  called.  "  No,  sir,  there  has 
been  no  one  but  a  man  with  a  bag ;  he  called  three 
times,  and  I  always  told  him  you  were  out."  His 
umbrella  he  was  for  ever  losing ;  not  through  in- 
advertence, he  declared,  but  through  larceny  :  he  set 
up  a  red  umbrella  :  that  too  was  pirated  :  engraved 
finally  on  the  handle  "  Stolen  from  Dr.  Buckland," 
that  met  the  case  ;  he  became  for  the  first  time  per- 
manently umbrelliferous. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  unsurpassed  energy 
and  usefulness,  came  the  blow  which  ended,  not  the 
life — better  perhaps  had  it  been  so — but  the  vigour 
and  beauty  of  the  life.  For  eight  years  he  lay  tor- 
pid and  apathetic ;  the  only  books  he  would  open 
were  the  Bible  and  the  Leisure  Hour !  His  fine 
collection,  with  his  own  hammermarks  and  his 
wife's  neat  labels  on  every  stone,  he  bequeathed  to 


his  successors  in  the  Chair.  It  lies,  or  lay  till  lately, 
neglected,  useless,  unarranged,  in  the  cellars  of  the 
Museum  ;  yet,  if  not  for  the  sake  of  education  and 
learning,  then  for  the  sake  of  sentiment  and  rever- 
ence, one  would  think  that  the  Conscript  Fathers 
might  accord,  if  they  have  not  yet  done  so,  a  place 
conspicuous  and  honoured  to  the  traditions  and  the 
autographs  of  the  first  great  Oxford  scientist. 

A  life-long  friend  and  fellow  pioneer  of  Daubeny 
and  Buckland  was  Baden-Powell,  who  became 
Savilian  Professor  of  Geometry  in  1827.  His  earlier 
papers  on  Mathematics,  Astronomy,  Physics,  had 
made  him  widely  notable ;  and  he  distinguished 
himself  from  a  very  early  time  by  discerning  and 
urging  the  need  of  University  reform.  Of  a  nature 
eagerly  participative,  he  did  much  by  his  popular 
addresses  to  create  an  appetite  for  science  among 
the  Oxford  citizens,  lecturing  also  to  Polytechnics 
and  Mechanics  Institutes  throughout  the  country. 
Alone  amongst  the  Oxford  teachers  of  his  day  he 
worked  out  with  ability  and  boldness,  with  a  single- 
minded  aspiration  after  Truth,  yet  in  a  calm  and 
temperate  spirit,  those  attractive  problems  of  the 
relation  between  Science  and  Religion,  which  his 
contemporaries  for  the  most  part  handled  only  in 
support  of  personal  and  party  preconceptions,  or 
shirked  through  fear  of  the  odium  which  they  were 
certain  to  excite.  As  a  member  of  the  first  Uni- 
versity Commission,  he  did  much  to  enforce  the 
claims  of  Science  to  a  prominent  position  in  the  Uni- 
^versity  curriculum.  He  died,  all  too  soon,  in  1860. 
7  I  think  the  only  Lectures  besides  Buckland's  which 

V  drew  students  to  a  class-room  were  those  on  (t  ex- 

/    \j 


perimental  Philosophy/'  as  it  was  called  ;  delivered 
in  the  Clarendon  by  a  cheery  Mr.  Walker,  who 
constructed  and  exploded  gases,  laid  bare  the 
viscera  of  pumps  and  steam  engines,  forced  mercury 
through  wood  blocks  in  a  vacuum,  manipulated 
galvanic  batteries,  magic-lanterns,  air-guns.  This 
last  demonstration  once,  like  decent  David's  dancing 
in  "Don  Juan,"  "excited  some  remark."  A  wicked 
wag  loaded  the  air-gun  before  the  professor  entered, 
and  when  the  trigger  was  pulled  we  saw  some 
plaster  fall  from  the  ceiling,  and  a  clatter  was  heard 
presently  on  the  staircase.  The  bullet  had  gone  up 
into  the  lecture-room  above,  and  put  to  flight 
another  professor  with  his  pupils.  Walker  was  a 
man  of  great  ability ;  the  first,  I  believe,  to  intro- 
duce into  Oxford  the  analytical  as  distinct  from  the 
geometrical  treatment  of  higher  mathematics.  He 
was  also  a  notable  preacher  of  the  evangelical  school ; 
his  sermons  pure  in  style,  and  reflecting  strong 
personal  piety. 

A  humbler  philosopher  in  the  same  line  was 
Thomas,  a  Holywell  glazier,  who  used  to  give  gra- 
tuitous popular  lectures  in  the  music-room  to  work- 
ing men,  using  implements  and  apparatus,  magnets, 
galvanometers,  induction  coils,  cleverly  fashioned 
by  himself.  He  was  genuinely  and  widely  scientific  ; 
made  an  interesting  discovery  as  to  the  thinness 
at  which  decomposed  glass  yields  complemen- 
tary colours — I  have  some  of  his  specimens  in 
my  cabinet — discovered  that  certain  double  salts, 
crystallised  at  particular  temperatures,  assume 
special  forms  and  become  beautiful  microscopic 
objects — an  electrician,  a  naturalist,  an  optician,  a 


discoverer,  a  working  man.  A  few  years  later  came 
another  self-taught  genius,  Chapman,  a  watchmaker 
with  a  shop  opposite  Balliol,  whose  large  and  well- 
stocked  marine  aquarium,  a  thing  of  beauty  at  that 
time  rare,  attracted  wondering  visitors.  He  it  was 
who  discovered  and  rescued  the  monster  Cetiosaurus 
at  Kirtlington  Station.  He  had  dismounted  from 
the  train  with  his  son  on  a  botanising  expedition 
just  as  the  first  fragment  was  disclosed  by  the  pick- 
axe ;  found  the  foreman,  stopped  the  digging,  tele- 
graphed for  Phillips,  who  superintended  the  removal 
of  the  enormous  bones  to  the  Oxford  Museum. 
The  credit  accrued  to  Phillips,  no  one  mentioned 
Chapman.  "  The  page  slew  the  boar,  the  peer  had 
the  gloire." 

But  the  names  of  Phillips  and  the  Museum  are 
anticipatory  :  I  must  go  back  to  clear  the  way  for 
them.  The  man  who  made  them  and  much  else 
possible  in  Oxford  has  been  dead  only  a  few  years, 
member  of  a  family  exceptional  in  longevity  as 
in  almost  all  besides.  His  advent  in  the  early 
Forties,  his  regeneration  of  the  Anatomy  School  at 
Christchurch,  the  Hope  Bequest,  the  erection  of  the 
new  Museum,  the  remarkable  genius  who  was  its 
architect,  the  impulse  which  it  communicated  at 
once  to  Science  and  Art,  its  welcome  to  the  British 
Association,  its  handselling  by  the  Great  Darwin 
fight  in  its  new  Theatre  from  morn  till  dewy  eve, 
when  Huxley  and  S.  Wilberforce  were  protagonists, 
and  Henslow  held  the  stakes, — I  must  keep  for 
another  chapter. 



"Jam  jam  Efficaci  do  manus  Sciential 


Dr.  Acland — His  Influence — The  New  Museum — Its  Erection — Pollen 
—Woodward — An  Art  Colony — William  Morris  and  Rossetti — 
The  British  Association  Meeting  of  1860 — The  Darwinian  Dis- 
cussion— Wilberforce  and  the  "  Venerable  Ape  " — Huxley's  Reply 
— The  Statistician  and  the  Symbolist — After  the  Battle — Dar- 
winism a  Decade  Later — The  Microscopical  Society — J.  O. 
West  wood. 

IN  1844  Dr.  Acland,  settling  in  Oxford  as  a 
physician  on  Dr.  Wootten's  early  and  lamented 
death,  was  made  Lee's  Reader  of  Anatomy  at 
Christchurch.  The  subject  had  not  formed  part 
of  University  studies ;  Sir  Christopher  Pegge  had 
drawn  small  audiences  to  fluent  desultory  lectures  ; 
Dr.  Kidd,  who  vacated  the  chair  to  Dr.  Acland,  had 
published  an  able  monograph  on  the  anatomy  of 
the  mole-cricket,  whose  novelty  moved  the  mirth 
of  his  professional  brethren.  The  small  theatre 
contained  a  cast  of  Eclipse's  skeleton  with  a  few 
dreary  preparations  in  wax ;  corpses  were  sent 
from  the  gallows  for  dissections,  at  which  an 
intending  medical  student  would  now  and  then 
assist ;  there  was  a  tradition  that  the  body  of  a 
woman  hanged  for  murder  had  once,  when  laid 
out  on  the  table,  shown  signs  of  life,  had  been 
restored  by  the  professor,  and  dismissed,  let  us 



hope  to  sin  no  more.  In  Oxford,  or  out  of  it, 
Invertebrate  Zoology  was  a  subject  little  studied, 
and  Comparative  Anatomy  was  unknown.  Besides 
the  regular  students'  course  at  St.  George's  Hospital, 
Acland  had  spent  two  valuable  years  in  Edinburgh. 
Here  he  learned  to  handle  the  then  unfamiliar 
microscope,  and  acquired  under  the  famous  Good- 
sir  that  insight  into  Comparative  Anatomy  and 
that  conception  of  museum  arrangement  which 
were  ere  long  to  differentiate  him  from  his  medical 
brethren.  The  Readership  of  Anatomy  fell  vacant, 
and  was  offered  to  him  by  the  Dean.  With  Good- 
sir's  help  he  amassed  preparations  and  slides  ;  along 
with  Edward  Forbes  visited  the  Shetlands  for 
dredging  and  dissection ;  returned  to  Oxford  with 
fourteen  large  packing  cases,  and  set  himself  to 
create  a  little  Hunterian  museum  on  the  banks 
of  Isis.  He  employed  for  dissection  the  deft 
fingers  of  ].  G.  Wood,  then  an  undergraduate  : 
from  the  yet  more  skilful  hands  of  Charles 
Robertson — who,  under  his  tuition,  became  after- 
wards Aldrichian  Demonstrator  and  tutor  for  the 
Science  Schools,  and  whose  " Zoological  Series" 
gained  a  medal  in  the  Exhibition  of  1862 — 
proceeded  nearly  all  the  beautiful  biological 
preparations  now  on  the  Museum  shelves.  The 
lectures  began  in  1845 ;  they  were  delivered  in 
the  downstairs  theatre,  whence  we  ascended  to 
the  room  above,  to  sit  at  tables  furnished  with 
little  railroads  on  which  ran  microscopes  charged 
with  illustrations  of  the  lecture,  alternately  with 
trays  of  coffee.  A  few  senior  men  came  from  time 
to  time,  but  could  not  force  their  minds  into  the 


new  groove.  Dr.  Ogle,  applying  his  eye  to  the 
microscope,  screwed  a  quarter-inch  right  through 
the  object;  and  Dr.  Kidd,  after  examining  some 
delicate  morphological  preparation,  while  his  young 
colleague  explained  its  meaning,  made  answer  first, 
that  he  did  not  believe  in  it,  and,  secondly,  that  if 
it  were  true  he  did  not  think  God  meant  us  to 
know  it.  So  we  were  mostly  undergraduates ; 
and  greatly  we  enjoyed  lectures,  microscopes, 
and  the  discussions  which  Dr.  Acland  encouraged ; 
though  these  last  exercises  were  after  a  time  sup- 
pressed, as  endangering  lapses  into  the  leve  et 
ludicrum.  On  one  occasion,  so  fame  reported, 
the  men  being  invited  to  relate  instances  of  sur- 
prising animal  instinct,  it  was  announced  by  an 
imaginative  student,  to  the  consteration  of  the 
professor,  who  did  not  appreciate  jokes,  that  "he 
knew  a  man  whose  sister  had  a  tame  jellyfish 
which  would  sit  up  and  beg." 

We  discerned  his  weaknesses,  liked  him,  I  think, 
all  the  better  for  them,  as  bringing  him  nearer  to 
ourselves.  His  stiff  sense  of  rectitude,  oppressive 
sometimes  both  to  his  neighbours  and  himself, 
obstructed  the  easy  relation,  begotten  usually  by 
public  school  and  College  friction,  which  some 
teachers  establish  with  their  pupils.  For  neither 
at  Harrow  nor  at  Oxford  was  he  on  clubbable 
terms  with  his  fellows.  Lacking  in  a  sense  of 
humour,  he  often  mistook  fun  for  levity  :  de- 
nounced, I  remember,  as  "unprofitable,"  Sydney 
Smith's  hearteasing  merriment ;  and  his  sensitive- 
ness occasionally  misinterpreted  an  impersonal 
frolic  as  an  intentional  offence  against  himself. 


As  he  was  by  nature  strongly  emotional,  the 
hysterica  passio  would  "  swell  up/'  as  poor  Lear 
says,  with  disconcerting  suddenness.  Henry  Fur- 
neaux,  prince  of  raconteurs  and  mimics,  used  to 
relate  how  he  once  burst  into  tears  at  first 
sight  of  a  pretty  little  window  constructed  by 
Woodward  in  his  absence  :  he  was  ill  in  bed  for 
a  week  after  witnessing  Tom  Taylor's  "  Joan  of 
Arc  "  :  and  his  broken-hearted  self-tormentings  over 
his  own  supposed  religious  deficiencies  brought 
on  him  a  manly  rebuke  from  Liddell.  His  habit 
of  assuming  in  argument  a  tone  of  moral  supe- 
riority was  wont  to  exasperate  opponents.  He 
would  press  his  views  upon  his  colleagues  in 
conference  with  a  sort  of  tremulous  affectionate- 
ness — the  aterna  mansuetudo  of  the  Thunny  Squib 
(page  XI5)  —  breaking  their  heads,  as  Rolleston 
said,  with  precious  balms ;  then,  if  disappointed, 
he  would  be  peevish,  lose  temper,  court  defeat. 
Max  Miiller,  asked  how  he  had  contrived  to 
force  through  Convocation  an  extremely  debat- 
able measure,  answered,  "We  got  Acland  to  speak 
against  it." 

These  were  spots  in  the  sun,  to  be  recalled 
with  lenient  and  good-humoured  allowance,  but 
essential  to  a  complete  understanding  of  the  man. 

Meanwhile  his  teaching  bore  fruit;  and  before 
the  Forties  had  run  half  their  course  the  question 
of  a  Museum  arose.  There  were  Buckland's 
treasures  houseless,  Dr.  Acland's  had  outgrown 
their  sedem  angustam,  and  when  Hope's  noble 
entomological  collection,  accepted  together  with 
its  curator,  had  to  be  stored  away  in  drawers  and 


boxes  of  a  room  in  the  Taylor  building,  it  was 
felt  that  the  old  Ashmolean  must  be  supplanted 
by  a  temple  worthy  of  the  University.  The  pro- 
posal was  vehemently  denounced ;  by  economists 
on  the  ground  of  cost,  by  the  old-fashioned 
classicists  as  intrusive,  by  theologians  as  subtly 
ministering  to  false  doctrine,  heresy,  and  schism. 
Sewell  of  Exeter  strained  the  clerical  prerogative 
of  bigotry  by  protesting  against  it  in  a  University 
sermon.  Backed  by  Daubeny,  Powell,  Buckland, 
as  later  by  Dean  Liddell  and  Professor  Phillips, 
Dr.  Acland  sedulously  pressed  it ;  till  early  in  the 
Fifties  the  money  was  voted,  the  design  adopted, 
the  first  stone  laid  by  Lord  Derby,  and  the  work 
begun — due,  as  ought  always  to  be  remembered, 
to  the  initiative  and  persistence  of  Acland  more 
than  of  any  other  man.  Its  erection  popularised 
in  Oxford  Art  no  less  than  Science.  The  growth 
of  artistic  feeling  had  been  for  some  time  per- 
ceptible ;  the  Eldon  drawings  were  laid  out  in 
the  Taylor ;  Mr.  Combe's  fine  gallery  of  Pre- 
Raphaelites,  the  collections  of  choice  engravings 
made  by  Griffiths  of  Wadham  and  by  Manuel 
Johnson,  were  liberally  and  kindly  shown ;  James 
Wyatt,  the  picture  dealer,  loved  to  fill  his  High 
Street  shop  with  Prouts  and  Constables  and 
Havills,  and  an  occasional  Turner  water-colour ; 
an  exhibition  of  paintings  at  the  Angel,  promoted 
by  Captain  Strong,  an  accomplished  amateur, 
brought  out  unknown  talent  and  drew  the  artists 
together.  Millais  was  often  in  Oxford  as  the  guest 
of  Mr.  Drury  at  Shotover ;  Holman  Hunt  was 
working  in  Mr.  Combe's  house  at  "The  Light  of 


the  World,"  brought  with  him  from  Chelsea ;  nor 
can  any  one  who  knew  young  Venables,  curate  of 
St.  Paul's,  an  intimate  with  the  Combes,  doubt 
whence,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  Hunt  drew 
the  face  of  his  Christ. 

Another  pioneer  of  Art  was  John  Hungerford 
Pollen,  Fellow  of  Merton.  Calling  on  friends 
and  finding  the  oak  sported,  he  would  leave  his 
card  in  the  form  of  pencil  drawings  on  the  stair- 
case-wall without.  Once  at  New  College,  when 
these  walls  were  being  newly  coloured,  we  made 
intercession  with  the  Bursar  to  leave  untouched 
the  sacer  paries  adjoining  William  Heathcote's 
rooms,  which  were  inwrought  with  vigorous  de- 
lineations of  "Civitas  Bethlehem,  TTO?U?  Nazareth, 
Urbs  Jerusalem,"  from  Pollen's  pencil.  He  was 
a  far  -  and  -  wide  traveller,  and  with  congenial 
friends  would  pour  forth  his  experiences  and 
show  his  sketches.  Heathcote  used  to  tell  how 
one  evening  at  the  Skenes,  when  Miss  Skene,  a 
fine  Handelian  singer,  was  emulating  the  coyness 
of  Sardus  Tigellius,  Pollen  offered,  if  she  would 
sing  "  Waft  her  Angels,"  to  execute  the  Muezzin's 
call  to  prayer.  This  he  did  in  perfection,  sitting 
cross-legged  on  the  floor  with  rocking  body  and 
resonant  ascending  drawling  cry.  He  left  his 
monument  in  the  painted  ceiling  of  Merton 
Chapel.  I  used  to  go  in  and  watch  him  at 
work,  recumbent  all  day  long  upon  a  scaffolding, 
his  brush  busy,  and  his  black  hair  showing  against 
the  white  blouse  he  wore.  The  cherubs  filling  the 
medallion  were  drawn  from  Magdalen  Choristers  : 
one  was  my  brother,  afterwards  Rector  of  Stand- 

From  a  Photograph 


lake,  another  was  Charles  Corfe,  son  to  the  Christ- 
church  organist ;  the  Madonna  was  his  mother, 
Mrs.  Corfe ;  one  of  the  angels  was  a  Miss  Smythe. 
Eight  years  after,  when  long  cut  off  from  College 
life,  he  came  with  Rossetti  to  decorate  Wood- 
ward's Union  Debating  Room,  his  contribution 
being  Arthur's  investment  with  the  brand  Ex- 
calibur.  We  were  all  prepared  for  his  secession 
in  his  Proctor's  year,  nor  surprised  to  read  in 
The  Times  one  day  that  he  had  joined  the  Church 
of  Rome.  Two  days  later  came  a  characteristic 
note  from  him  to  the  premature  journal:  "As 
the  statement  is  untrue,  you  will  have  the  good- 
ness to  contradict  it."  Delane  apologised,  and 
gave  up  his  informer,  Oakley,  who  sent  in  his 
turn  a  furious  remonstrance,  which  The  Times 
snubbed.  The  report  was  untimely,  that  was  all ; 
he  left  us  shortly  afterwards. 

Then  into  our  midst  came  Woodward,  architect 
of  the  Museum,  a  man  of  rare  genius  and  deep 
artistic  knowledge,  beautiful  in  face  and  character, 
but  with  the  shadow  of  an  early  death  already 
stealing  over  him.  He  was  a  grave  and  curiously 
silent  man  :  of  his  partners,  men  greatly  his  in- 
feriors, the  elder,  Sir  Thomas  Deane,  was  a  cease- 
less chatterbox,  the  younger,  son  to  Sir  Thomas, 
stammered.  Speaking  in  Congregation,  Jeune  hit 
off  the  trio  after  his  manner  :  "  One  won't  talk,  one 
can't  talk,  one  never  stops  talking."  Woodward 
brought  with  him  his  Dublin  pupils,  drew  round 
him  eager  Oxonians,  amongst  them  Morris  and 
Burne-Jones,  not  long  come  up  to  Exeter.  The 
lovely  Museum  rose  before  us  like  an  exhalation ; 


its  every  detail,  down  to  panels  and  footboards, 
gas-burners  and  door  handles,  an  object  lesson  in 
art,  stamped  with  Woodward's  picturesque  inven- 
tiveness and  refinement.  Not  before  had  ironwork 
been  so  plastically  trained  as  by  Skidmore  in  the 
chestnut  boughs  and  foliage  which  sustained  the 
transparent  roof :  the  shafts  of  the  interior  arcades, 
representing  in  their  sequence  the  succession  of 
British  rocks,  sent  us  into  the  Radcliffe  Library 
for  the  mastery  of  geological  classification;  every 
morning  came  the  handsome  red-bearded  Irish 
brothers  Shea,  bearing  plants  from  the  Botanic 
Garden,  to  reappear  under  their  chisels  in  the 
rough-hewn  capitals  of  the  pillars. 

"  Nor  herb  nor  flow'ret  glistened  there 
But  was  carved  in  the  cloister  arches  as  fair." 

It  seemed  that  Art  was  in  the  air  :  Mrs.  Bar- 
tholomew Price,  with  Miss  Cardwell's  aid,  painted 
her  St.  Giles'  drawing-room  in  no  Philistine  taste ; 
the  graceful  sunshade  work  outside  Dr.  Acland's 
windows  found  imitation  in  many  another  street ; 
Ruskin,  whose  books  in  1850  Sewell,  the  librarian 
of  my  College,  refused  to  purchase  for  the  library, 
was  read  as  he  had  not  been  read  before ;  while  he 
himself  hovered  about  to  bless  the  Museum  work, 
to  offer  cheques,  and  to  suggest  improvements 
which  silent  Woodward  sometimes  smiling  put  by. 
The  Committee  of  the  Union  authorised  Wood- 
ward to  build  a  debating-room,  to  decorate  which 
— alas  !  upon  untempered  mortar  ! — came  down 
Rossetti  and  Val  Prinsep,  and  Hughes  and  Stan- 
hope, and  Pollen,  and  Monro  the  sculptor.  A 


merry,  rollicking  set  they  were  :  I  was  working 
daily  in  the  Library,  which  at  that  time  opened  into 
the  gallery  of  the  new  room,  and  heard  their  laugh- 
ter and  songs  and  jokes  and  the  volleys  of  their 
soda-water  corks ;  for  this  innutrient  fluid  was 
furnished  to  them  without  stint  at  the  Society's 
expense,  and  the  bill  from  the  Star  Hotel  close  by 
amazed  the  treasurer.  It  was  during  this  visit  that 
Morris  and  Rossetti,  with  Rogers,  a  pupil  of  Wood- 
ward, hunting  in  the  parish  churches  on  Sunday 
evenings  to  find  a  Guinevere,  met  with  the  handsome 
girl  who  became  afterwards  the  wife  of  William 
Morris  and  Rossetti's  cherished  friend.  I  well  re- 
member her  sister  and  herself;  she  survives  in 
sacred  widowhood. 

At  last  the  Museum  was  so  far  finished  as  to 
receive  the  British  Association  of  1860.  Sections 
fell  conveniently  into  the  lecture-rooms  :  the  area, 
not  yet  filled  with  cases,  held  the  evening  gather- 
ings ;  and  the  large  Library,  devoid  of  books 
and  shelves,  was  dedicated  to  the  Darwinian  dis- 
cussion, the  great  event  of  the  week.  The  room 
filled  early,  and  we  waited  long.  Owen  was  to 
take  the  chair,  but  did  not  come ;  he  was  replaced 
by  an  unclerical-looking  man  in  black,  whom  we 
in  Oxford  knew  not,  but  whom  all  Cambridge 
honoured  as  Professor  Henslow.  The  attack  on 
Darwin's  book  was  to  be  led  by  the  Bishop  of 
Oxford,  who  had  written  in  the  last  Quarterly  a 
denunciatory  article  inspired  by  Owen,  and  Huxley 
was  to  head  the  defence.  The  Bishop  came  late, 
trampling  his  way  through  the  dense  crowd  to  his 
place  upon  the  platform,  his  face  no  longer  re- 


fined  and  spiritual  as  in  the  early  Richmond  por- 
trait ;  coarsened  somewhat,  even  plebeianised,  by 
advancing  years,  but  resourceful,  pugnacious,  im- 
pregnable, not  a  little  arrogant.  On  the  chairman's 
other  side  sat  Huxley  ;  hair  jet  black  and  thick, 
slight  whiskers,  pale  full  fleshy  face,  the  two  strong 
lines  of  later  years  already  marked,  an  ominous 
quiver  in  his  mouth,  and  an  arrow  ready  to  come 
out  of  it.  For  a  moment  Daubeny  beamed  on  us 
at  the  upper  door,  inviting  all  at  three  o'clock  to 
his  experimental  garden  on  the  Iffley  Road.  Pro- 
fessor Draper  of  New  York,  eminent,  serious,  nasal, 
read  a  paper  on  Evolution  ;  then,  during  an  ex- 
pectant pause,  out  came  the  Derby  dog  in  the 
person  of  old  "  Dicky  "  Greswell  of  Worcester,  who, 
with  great  eyes,  vast  white  neckcloth,  luminous 
bald  head  and  spectacles,  rising  and  falling  rhyth- 
mically on  his  toes,  opined  that  all  theories  as  to 
the  ascent  of  man  were  vitiated  by  the  fact,  un- 
doubted but  irrelevant,  that,  in  the  words  of  Pope, 
Great  Homer  died  three  thousand  years  ago. 
Another  pause,  an  appeal  from  the  chairman  to 
Huxley,  his  sarcastic  response  that  he  certainly  held 
a  brief  for  Science,  but  had  not  yet  heard  it  assailed. 
Then  up  got  Wilberforce,  argumentative,  rheto- 
rical, amusing ;  retraced  the  ground  of  his  article, 
distinguished  between  a  "  working  and  a  causal 
hypothesis,"  complimented  "  Professor  Huxley 
who  is  about  to  demolish  me,"  plagiarised  from  a 
mountebank  sermon  by  Burgon,  expressing  the 
"  disquietude "  he  should  feel  were  a  "  venerable 
ape  "  to  be  shown  to  him  as  his  ancestress  in  the 
Zoo  :  a  piece  of  clever,  diverting,  unworthy  clap- 


From  a  Photograph  taken  at  the  Meeting  of  the  British  Association,  1860 


trap.  Huxley  rose,  white  with  anger.  "  I  should 
be  sorry  to  demolish  so  eminent  a  prelate,  but  for 
myself  I  would  rather  be  descended  from  an  ape 
than  from  a  divine  who  employs  authority  to  stifle 
truth."  A  gasp  and  shudder  through  the  room,  the 
scientists  uneasy,  the  orthodox  furious,  the  Bishop 
wearing  that  fat,  provoking  smile  which  once,  as 
Osborne  Gordon  reminds  us,1  impelled  Lord  Derby 
in  the  House  of  Lords  to  an  unparliamentary 
quotation  from  "  Hamlet."  "  I  am  asked,"  Huxley 
went  on,  "if  I  accept  Mr.  Darwin's  book  as  a 
complete  causal  hypothesis.  Belated  on  a  roadless 
common  in  a  dark  night,  if  a  lantern  were  offered 
to  me,  should  I  refuse  it  because  it  shed  imperfect 
light  ?  I  think  not— I  think  not."  He  met  Wilber- 
force's  points,  not  always  effectively,  not  entirely  at 
his  ease;  the  "venerable  ape's"  rude  arms  were 
choking  him.  The  Bishop  radiantly  purged  him- 
self. He  did  not  mean  to  hurt  the  Professor's 
feelings ;  it  was  our  fault — we  had  laughed,  and 
that  made  him  pursue  the  joke.  We  laughed  again, 
and  Huxley  was  not  appeased. 

Another  pause,  broken  by  a  voice  from  the  crowd 
of  a  grey-haired,  Roman-nosed,  elderly  gentleman. 
It  was  Admiral  Fitzroy,  and  men  listened ;  but 
when  they  found  he  had  nothing  more  to  say  than 
that  Darwin's  book  had  given  him  acutest  pain,  the 
irreverent  cry  of  "Question  "  silenced  him.  Another 
voice  from  the  far  end  of  the  long  room  :  a  stout 
man  waved  and  slapped  a  blue-book ;  told  us  that 
he  was  no  naturalist  but  a  statistician,  and  that  if 
you  could  prove  Darwin's  theories  you  could  prove 
1  Page  154,  note. 


anything.  A  roar  of  displeasure  proclaimed  the 
meeting's  inaptitude  at  that  moment  for  statistics, 
and  the  stout  man  made  his  exit  with  a  defiant 
remonstrance.  Now,  we  thought,  for  business ; 
but  no,  there  was  another  act  of  comedy.  From 
the  back  of  the  platform  emerged  a  clerical  gentle- 
man, asking  for  a  blackboard.  It  was  produced, 
and  amid  dead  silence  he  chalked  two  crosses  at  its 
opposite  corners,  and  stood  pointing  to  them  as  if 
admiring  his  achievement.  We  gazed  at  him,  and 
he  at  us,  but  nothing  came  of  it,  till  suddenly  the 
absurdity  of  the  situation  seemed  to  strike  the 
whole  assembly  simultaneously,  and  there  went 
up  such  an  aa-fiea-ros  <ye\a>s  as  those  serious  walls 
would,  henceforth,  never  hear.  Again  and  again  the 
laughter  pealed,  as  purposeless  laughter  is  wont  to 
do ;  under  it  the  artist  and  his  blackboard  were  gently 
persuaded  to  the  rear,  and  we  saw  him  no  more. 
He  was  discovered  to  be  a  Cornish  parson,  scientifi- 
cally minded  ;  but  what  his  hieratics  meant  or  what 
he  wished  to  say  remains  inscrutable,  the  thought 
he  had  in  him,  as  Carlyle  says  of  the  long-flowing 
Turk  who  represented  the  human  species  at  the  heels 
of  Anacharsis  Clootz,  conjectural  to  this  day. 

So  at  last  the  fight  began,  with  words  strong 
on  either  side,  and  arguments  long  since  super- 
annuate ;  so  all  day  long  the  noise  of  battle  rolled. 
The  younger  men  were  on  the  side  of  Darwin,  the 
older  men  against  him ;  Hooker  led  the  devotees, 
Sir  Benjamin  Brodie  the  malcontents ;  till  the 
sacred  dinner-hour  drew  near.  Henslow  dismissed 
us  with  an  impartial  benediction,  College  Halls 
and  hospitable  homes  received  both  combatants 


and  audience  ;  nor  had  Daubeny  any  visitors  to 
his  experimental  garden.  Next  day  I  met  Rolleston, 
and  asked  after  Huxley's  symptoms.  "  In  my 
room,"  said  he,  "hang  portraits  of  Huxley,  and 
of  S.  Oxon.  When  I  came  down  this  morning 
I  give  you  my  word  that  Huxley's  photograph 
had  turned  yellow."  Ten  years  later  I  encountered 
him,  anything  but  yellow,  at  the  Exeter  meeting 
of  the  Association.  Again  there  was  a  bitter  assault 
on  Darwinism,  this  time  by  a  Scottish  doctor  of 
divinity ;  with  smiling  serenity  Huxley  smote  him 
hip  and  thigh,  the  audience,  hostile  or  cold  at 
Oxford,  here  ecstatically  acquiescent.  The  decade 
had  worked  its  changes  :  Darwin  and  Evolution, 
fighting  in  their  courses  against  Inscience  and 
Prejudice,  had  subdued  the  popular  mind.  Philistia 
herself  was  glad  of  them. 

In  Oxford  for  a  time  after  this  science  was 
tolerated  sceptically  rather  than  cordially  welcomed. 
"Brodie  has  done  it  at  last,  gentlemen,"  laughed 
Chaffers  cheerfully  to  his  Brasenose  pupils,  when 
during  lecture  was  heard  a  tremendous  explosion 
—issuing,  as  it  turned  out,  from  the  new  heating 
apparatus  at  St.  Mary's,  not  from  the  Glastonbury 
laboratory.  At  this  day,  according  to  Professor 
Ray  Lankester,  it  receives  an  indecently  inadequate 
proportion  either  of  recognition  or  emolument. 
Conservatism  hated  it  as  novel,  Orthodoxy  feared 
it  as  emancipating  ;  even  men  like  Jowett l  pro- 
claimed war  against  it  on  behalf  of  the  "ancient 
studies,"  as  encroaching  on  and  menacing  the 
"  higher  conception  of  knowledge  and  of  the  mind," 
1  "  Life  and  Letters  of  Jowett,"  vol.  ii.  p.  268. 


as  antagonistic  to  "  morals  and  religion  and  philo- 
sophy and  history  and  language" — curiously  un- 
aware that  their  own  avowed  ignorance  of  its 
nature,  subjects,  tendencies,  precluded  them  from 
forming,  much  more  from  expressing,  an  opinion. 
Nevertheless,  before  the  decade  was  far  advanced 
science  established  itself  in  Oxford.  The  Museum 
buildings  formed  an  object  lesson  which  it  was 
impossible  to  overlook;  their  contents,  laid  out 
and  labelled,  their  minerals,  fossils,  insects,  zoo- 
logical specimens  and  preparations,  appealed  to 
the  naturalist  instinct  which  from  many  natures 
school  and  college  had  not  quite  extirpated  ;  pro- 
fessors came  amongst  us,  men  already  stamped 
with  classical  University  distinction,  Rolleston, 
Brodie,  Balfour ;  or,  like  Mrs.  Bayham  Badger's 
second  husband,  "  men  of  European  reputation," 
such  as  dear  old  Phillips.  The  splendid  show  of 
microscopes  at  the  British  Association  conversa- 
zione had  excited  interest  and  emulation  ;  and 
when  in  1861  an  enthusiastic  young  New  College 
naturalist  projected  a  Microscopical  Society  the 
idea  was  warmly  taken  up.  Dr.  Acland  was  its 
first  president,  and  delivered  an  inaugural  address ; 
it  met  and  worked  regularly,  with  papers  and 
discussions,  systematic  investigation  of  the  rich 
Oxford  microscopic  fauna,  periodical  exhibitions 
in  the  Museum,  which  drew  large  audiences  and 
laid  wide  foundations. 

Conspicuous  at  these  gatherings  was  the  famous 
entomologist  and  very  lovable  personage,  ].  O. 
Westwood,  who  had  come  to  Oxford  in  the  late 
Forties  as  controller  of  Mr.  Hope's  collection.  As 


far  as  I  know,  he  has  never  been  memorialised  in 
print,  and  I  may  appropriately  end  this  science 
chapter  with  a  brief  tribute  to  his  memory.  His 
claim  to  eminence  was  not  only  biological ;  he  was 
also  a  specialist  in  the  archaeology  and  palaeography 
of  art,  the  highest  living  authority  on  fictile  ivories 
and  inscribed  stones.  Born  and  brought  up  a 
Quaker,  he  was  apprenticed  to  an  engraver,  acquir- 
ing the  power  of  accurate  delineation  which  enabled 
him  so  graphically  to  illustrate  his  various  works. 
Articled  for  a  time  to  a  London  solicitor  and  after- 
wards a  partner  in  the  firm,  he  was  persuaded  by 
Mr.  Hope  to  remove  to  Oxford,  first  as  curator  of 
the  Hope  collection,  then  as  earliest  occupant  of  the 
Natural  History  Chair  which  Hope  was  founding ; 
and  at  Oxford  Westwood  remained  till  his  death. 
Sprung  from  the  ranks,  and  a  late-born  son  of  the 
University,  he  received  scant  welcome  from  the 
Dons ;  the  exclusiveness  of  that  time  being  further 
aggravated  by  his  Nonconformist  origin  and 
opinions,  until  rebuked  by  Richard  Michell,  the 
Public  Orator,  who  reminded  his  friends  that  their 
new  colleague  was  "not  sectarian  but  insectarian." 
The  good-humoured  simplicity  of  his  manner  and 
his  unfailing  amiability  to  all  who  sought  enlighten- 
ment in  his  department  soon  won  men's  hearts,  and 
he  became  as  popular  as  he  deserved  to  be. 

I  knew  him  not  till  1860.  Attracted  by  a  jar 
containing  live  specimens  of  the  uncommon  and 
beautiful  Cheirocephalus  diaphanus,  which  I  had 
found  in  a  rain-water  pool  near  the  Headington 
Asylum,  and  had  sent  to  a  natural  history  exhibition 
at  the  Town  Hall,  he  begged  me  to  call  on  him  at 


the  Museum  ;  and  finding  that  I  was  studying  the 
Coleoptera,  placed  at  my  disposal  books  and  speci- 
mens; sparing  no  pains  to  encourage  and  assist  me. 
I  happened  to  be  dexterous  in  microscopical  pre- 
paration, and  he  urged  the  Museum  Delegates  to 
employ  me  in  mounting  a  series  of  insect  anatomies 
after  a  conception  of  his  own;  but  the  plan  fell 
through.  His  own  technique  was  as  remarkable 
as  his  knowledge ;  with  no  tools  except  scissors, 
forceps,  lens,  camel-hair  brush,  gum  tragacanth, 
and  colour  box,  he  performed  miracles  of  dissection 
and  restoration.  I  remember  his  falling  from  a 
ladder  in  the  Library,  and  crushing  in  his  breast- 
pocket a  pill-box  containing  a  rare  beetle.  The 
ruin  seemed  hopeless,  the  insect  a  powder  of  frag- 
ments; but  he  set  to  work  at  once,  and  next  day 
showed  me  the  beetle  restored  to  all  its  former 
beauty.  His  unerring  instinct  in  diagnosing  and 
locating  a  new  species  was  made  the  subject  of  a 
practical  joke.  Some  saucy  young  entomologists 
obtained  a  chocolate  beetle,  made  and  coloured 
under  their  directions,  from  a  famous  shop  in  Paris, 
and  sent  it  to  Westwood  for  identification  fixed  in  a 
glass-topped  box.  He  wrote  that  without  handling 
it  he  could  not  be  certain  of  the  genus,  but  that  it 
was  a  tetramerous  beetle  belonging  to  the  family 
Cerambycidce.  The  useful  letter  "h  "  he  never  suc- 
ceeded in  pronouncing.  He  once  asked  Mansel 
who  was  St.  Bee.  Remembering  his  peculiarity, 
Mansel  answered  that  he  was  a  near  kinsman  of 
St.  'Ives.  At  an  electoral  contest  between  Mr. 
Gladstone  and  Mr.  Hardy,  Westwood,  coming  in 
late,  hurried  and  breathless,  announced  his  vote  for 


"  Glad ,  no,  no,  I  mean  'Ardy."     Henry  Smith 

claimed  the  vote  for  Gladstone.  "Why,"  said  the 
Vice-Chancellor,  "he  only  pronounced  the  first 
syllable  of  Mr.  Gladstone's  name."  "Yes,  sir; 
but  he  did  not  pronounce  the  first  letter  of  Mr. 

He  left  more  than  one  standard  work  :  in  science, 
the  "Modern  Classification  of  Insects,"  and  a  beau- 
tiful but  costly  monograph  of  "British  Moths 
and  Butterflies  "  ;  in  art,  the  "  Palaeographia  Sacra 
Pictoria,"  with  "  Miniatures  and  Ornaments  of 
Anglo-Saxon  and  Irish  MSS.,"  and  the  monumental 
"  Lapidarium  Walliae."  He  was  President  of  the 
Entomological  Society,  and  received  the  Royal 
Society's  gold  medal.  We  felt  when  he  passed  away 
that  a  zoological  professor  as  good,  perhaps  better, 
might  be  found ;  but  that  the  minutely  accom- 
plished entomologist,  holding  in  mind's  eye  and 
memory  all  the  discovered  and  named  insects  in  all 
the  museums  of  the  world,  accessible  from  his  fluent 
colloquial  French  and  German  to  every  Continental 
scientist,  ready  ever  to  display  and  expound  his 
treasures,  patiently  to  the  unlearned,  enthusi- 
astically to  the  accomplished  visitor,  could  probably 
never  be  replaced.  Men  said  of  him,  as  was  said  of 
Richelieu  when  he  died,  "  II  laisse  plus  de  vide  qu'il 
n'a  tenu  de  place."  Entering  the  familiar  room,  I 
shall  never  cease  to  miss  and  to  recall  regretfully 
the  short  figure,  shrewd  kindly  eye,  welcoming 
voice,  long  wave  of  snow  white  hair  and  beard, 
which  went  to  form  the  outward  man  of  J.  O. 



"  This  is  the  Prince  of  Leeches :  fever,  plague, 
Cold  rheum,  and  hot  podagra,  do  but  look  on  him, 
And  quit  their  grasp  upon  the  tortured  sinews" 


An  Oxford  Medical  Directory — Pegge — Wall— Bourn — Kidd — Ireland 
— West — Wood — Tuckwell — A  Picturesque  Survival— A  Friend 
of  Abernethy — His  Wonderful  Memory — His  jeux  d'esprit — 
The  Last  of  the  Old  School. 

"  LONG  and  lasting,"  says  Lockhart  in  his  now  for- 
gotten "  Reginald  Dalton,"  while  he  recounts  the 
blood-letting  of  an  Oxford  town 'and  gown  row — 
"  long  and  lasting  shall  be  the  tokens  of  its  wrath — 
long  shall  be  the  faces  of  Pegge,  Wall,  Kidd,  and 
light  shall  be  their  hearts,  as  they  walk  their  rounds 
to-morrow  morning — long  shall  be  the  stately  stride 
of  Ireland,  and  long  the  clyster-pipe  of  West — long 
and  deep  shall  be  the  probing  of  thy  skilful  lancet, 
O  Tuckwell ;  and  long  shall  be  all  your  bills,  and 
long,  very  long,  shall  it  be  ere  some  of  them  are 
paid."  Lockhart  wrote  in  the  Twenties,  but  most  of 
his  doctors  were  walking  their  rounds  ten  years 
later  ;  walking,  for  Oxford  was  a  small  place  then, 
and  our  medicos  performed  their  ambarvalia  on 
foot.  Sir  Christopher  Pegge  was  a  showy,  hand- 
some man,  a  Fellow  of  Oriel  in  Oriel's  prime  of 

reputation ;     he    had    no    great    practice,    but    as 



Regius  Professor  drew  men  to  his  spirited  lectures. 
Though  comparatively  young,  he  wore  the  old- 
fashioned  cocked  hat  and  wig,  with  the  massive 
gold-headed  cane,  which  his  successor,  Dr.  Kidd — 
a  sensible,  homely  creature — was  the  first  medical 
professor  to  abandon.  Kidd,  Wall,  Bourn  were  the 
popular  physicians  of  the  decade.  Kidd  was  a  little 
man,  trotting  about  the  streets  in  a  "  spencer,"  a 
tailless  greatcoat  then  becoming  obsolete,  and  worn 
only  by  himself  and  Dr.  Macbride.  Bourn  was  an 
insinuating,  smiling,  soft-voiced  man — "Have  we 
any  report  from  the  bowels?"  was  his  regular 
whispered  question  to  lady  patients  suffering  from 
what  Epimenides  the  Cretan  called  ryao-re/w  apyai. 
Wall  I  cannot  recall,  but  I  remember  his  widow 
and  Bourn's,  picturesque  old  ladies  in  black  velvet 
and  lace,  whose  card-parties,  preceded  by  formal 
tea  and  closed  by  substantial  suppers,  attracted  the 
clever  genial  men  and  women  whom  I  have  earlier 
mentioned.  Dr.  Ogle,  father  to  a  distinguished 
Fellow  of  Lincoln,  who  died  all  too  early,  lived  on 
into  the  early  Fifties  ;  as  did  Kidd,  with  two  droll 
little  daughters  something  like  himself.  Eden,  when 
Vicar  of  St.  Mary's,  once  invited  the  pair  to  tea ; 
stuffed  them  with  cake  and  muffin; — for  a  tea 
was  a  square  meal  in  those  days — dismissed  them 
with  the  farewell,  which  they  received  in  the 
belief  that  it  was  a  religious  pastoral  benediction  : 

Ite  domum,  Satura,  venit  Hesperus,  ite,  Capellce. 

Ireland  represented  the  "  matriculated  apothe- 
caries" of  that  date,  men  who,  like  the  elder  Pen- 
dennis  in  his  lowly  days,  made  up  their  own 


medicines,  attended  ladies  at  the  most  interesting 
period  of  their  lives,  sold  Epsom  salts,  blisters,  hair 
powder,  across  the  counter  of  the  shops  which  they 
called  their  surgeries.  Some  remained  humble  to 
the  end;  not  so  Ireland,  who  somehow  obtained  a 
Scotch  degree,  discarded  the  surgery,  and  set  up  a 
brass  plate  as  Dr.  Ireland  on  his  house  in  Penny- 
farthing  Street.  He  was  a  grandiloquent,  pompous 
man;  Lockhart's  "  stately  stride"  exactly  hits  him 
off.  I  remember  his  swing  along  the  street  with 
cane  held  at  attention ;  recall  his  stalking  into  my 
mother's  drawing-room  with  his  new  honour  fresh 
upon  him,  and  bespeaking  her  congratulations  on 
the  fact  that  he  would  "enter  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  as  a  Doctor  of  Medicine."  I  saw  him  later 
in  extreme  old  age  ;  he  said  that  he  was  ninety-nine 
years  old — he  was  nothing  like  so  old — but  he 
added,  with  his  hands  aloft,  "My  memory  is  in 
ruins."  He  deserved  credit,  however,  for  discover- 
ing the  mathematical  talent  of  his  servant  lad  Abram 
Robertson,  who  became  afterwards  Professor  of 
Astronomy.  West  was  his  partner — tall,  gentle- 
manlike, gold-spectacled,  married  to  the  daughter 
of  a  rich  and  notable  Alderman  Fletcher,  whose 
hands  continued  to  hold  her  cards  long  after  they 
had  ceased,  through  rheumatism,  to  be  for  other 
purposes  prehensile.  West's  partner  again  and 
subsequent  successor  was  Wood,  father  to  the  natu- 
ralist, who  lived  in  the  fine  corner  house  opposite 
the  King's  Arms,  built  by  Vanbrugh,  and  destroyed 
to  make  way  for  the  Indian  Institute. 

But  by  far  the  most  conspicuous  and  interesting 
of  Lockhart's  Hakims  was  Tuckwell,  for  thirty  years 

From  a    Water-Colour  Drawing  by  J.  F.    Wood,  1833 


— from  1815  to  1845 — the  leading  Oxford  surgeon. 
In  costume  and  demeanour  he  was  a  survival  from 
the  more  picturesque  and  ceremonious  past.  He 
pervaded  Oxford  in  a  claret-coloured  tail  coat  with 
velvet  collar,  canary  waistcoat  with  gilt  buttons, 
light  brown  trousers,  two  immense  white  cravats 
propping  and  partly  covering  the  chin,  a  massive 
well-brushed  beaver  hat.1  His  manner  and  address 
were  extraordinarily  winning  ;  a  contemporary  de- 
scribed him  to  me  long  ago,  in  a  letter  which  I 
happened  to  preserve,  as  "  the  most  fascinating 
man  I  ever  met,  a  favourite  with  all  who  knew 
him ;  his  cheery  brightness  invaluable  in  a  sick 
room,  supported  as  it  was  by  his  high  repute  and 
skill."  Mr.  Abernethy,  discontinuing  practice,  en- 
treated him  to  take  his  place ;  he  was,  said  Sir 
Benjamin  Brodie  to  me  in  1853,  "one  of  the 
cleverest  surgeons  of  his  day."  He  was  not  a 
member  of  the  University,  but  had  been  educated 
at  the  then  famous  Aynho  Grammar  School,  whose 
eccentric  master,  Mr.  Leonard,  was  known  for  his 
scholarship  and  for  his  addiction  to  green  tea, 
which  he  kept  ever  by  his  side  to  moisten  his 
construes  in  Tacitus  and  Horace.  So  Tuckwell 
knew  his  Latin  books  minutely,  and  could  quote 
them  effectively.  He  was  pupil  to  Abernethy,  who 
became  much  attached  to  him;  his  dinner  table 
after  his  marriage  held  a  magnificent  epergne, 
a  wedding  present  from  the  famous  surgeon. 
Amongst  his  comrades  were  the  lads  known 

1  Beaver. — There  were  no  silk  hats  until  late  in  the  Thirties. 
The  beaver  cost  two  guineas  ;  only  gentlemen  wore  them.  New 
College  men  of  that  day  were  known  by  their  unbrushed  hats. 



afterwards  as  Dr.  Skey  and  Sir  George  Burrows. 
He  worked  hard  at  his  profession,  and  made  him- 
self a  proficient  besides  in  French,  Spanish,  and 
Italian.  He  went  to  Oxford,  without  introduction, 
friends,  or  money,  about  1808,  but  rose  rapidly 
into  practice,  establishing  himself  in  the  house 
opposite  Magdalen  elms,  which  a  very  few  old 
Oxford  men  still  associate  with  his  name,  and 
which  was  to  bear  in  later  years  the  door-plate 
of  his  son.  His  name  is  not  only  embalmed 
in  Lockhart's  novel,  but  points  the  moral  of  a 
bitter  passage  in  the  "  Oxford  Spy  "  : — 

"  If  tutors  punish  what  they  seldom  shun, 
Severe  to  all  who  do — as  they  have  done — 
Their  wild  career  at  once  pursue,  condemn  ; 
Give  fees  to  Tuckwell,  and  advice  to  them." 

It  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the  day  of  early  dinners, 
late  suppers,  nightly  cards.  Ombre  had  gone  out ; 
though  it  was  said  that  old  Miss  Horseman  could 
still  illustrate  Belinda's  game,  and  unfold  the  mys- 
teries of  Manille  and  Matador.  Quadrille,  piquet, 
whist,  were  the  games  in  vogue ;  and  at  the  last 
two  Tuckwell  was  said  to  be  one  of  the  best 
players  in  England.  David  Gregorie,  the  Queen's 
Square  magistrate,  invited  him  to  a  three  nights' 
contest  at  piquet.  It  took  place  at  Oxford,  in 
a  select  gathering  of  experts,  and  Gregorie  re- 
turned to  London  three  hundred  pounds  the 
poorer.  He  was  no  less  skilful  as  a  chess  player, 
having  learned  from  the  famous  Sarratt,  the  great 
chess  teacher,  whose  fee  was  a  guinea  a  lesson ; 
and  founding  the  club  already  mentioned  in  these 


papers.  The  marvellous  memory  which  explains 
his  prowess  at  cards  was  shown  in  his  power  of 
quoting  poetry.  Few  men  could  beat  him  in 
capping  verses;  those  present  with  him  at  a 
large  party  were  challenged  to  write  down  the 
titles  of  Shakespeare's  plays;  all  tried,  but  he 
alone  succeeded.  The  story  I  am  about  to  relate 
seems  incredible,  but  I  heard  it  long  ago  from  not 
a  few  independent  witnesses.  A  bet  was  laid,  and 
heavy  odds  taken  against  it,  that  he  would  repeat 
ten  consecutive  lines  from  any  one  place  at  which 
he  might  be  set  on  in  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Dante, 
or  Lope  de  Vega.  The  bet  was  won.  What  pro- 
verbs and  riddles  were  to  Solomon  and  his  cour- 
tiers, that  were  impromptus  and  epigrams  to  the 
lively  convives  of  that  pleasant  time.  A  lady  sang 
one  night  a  pretty  Italian  song  by  Metastasio,  and 
the  company  appealed  to  him  for  a  translation. 
He  hastily  pencilled  it  as  follows  : — 

"  Gentle  Zephyr,  ah  !  if  e'er 

Thou  meetst  the  Mistress  of  my  heart, 
Tell  her  thou'rt  a  sigh  sincere, 

But  never  say  whose  sigh  thou  art. 
Limpid  Rivulet,  ah  !  if  e'er 

Thy  murmuring  waters  near  her  glide, 
Say  thou'rt  swelled  by  many  a  tear, 

But  not  whose  eyes  those  tears  supplied." 

Catherine  Fanshawe's  poem  on  the  letter  H  created 
much  excitement  when  it  appeared.1  It  was  dis- 
cussed one  evening  in  his  presence,  and  a  Miss 
Harriett  Lee,  a  very  clever  girl — afterwards  Mrs. 

1  Appendix  D. 


Wingfield,  of  Tickencote  Hall— disparaged  it.  "  It's 
no  great  thing,"  she  said  ;  "  Tuckwell  would  have 
done  it  just  as  well."  Next  morning  he  carried 
to  her  these  lines  on  the  letter  W  : — 

"  Its  existence  began  with  this  World  full  of  tears, 
And  it  first  in  the  Work  of  Creation  appears. 
In  the  Whirlwind  we  feel  and  acknowledge  its  power, 
And  its  influence  hail  in  each  soft  falling  Shower. 
Its  presence  the  Woods  and  the  Waters  must  own, 
And  'tis  found  in  the  Dwelling  of  monarch  and  clown. 
It  will  never  forsake  us  in  Want  or  in  Woe, 
And  is  heard  in  each  Word  that  can  comfort  bestow. 
It  dwells  with  the  Wealthy,  the  Witty,  the  Wise, 
Yet  assistance  to  Wretchedness  never  denies. 
'Twill  be  found  in  the  Sweets  of  each  opening  flower, 
And  hangs  on  each  Dewdrop  at  twilight's  soft  hour. 
In  the  mournful  Farewell  if  you  hear  it  with  pain, 
In  the  sweet  sound  of  Welcome  'twill  meet  you  again. 
'Tis  the  prop  of  our  Laws,  and  the  guide  of  our  Will, 
Which  without  it  would  lead  us  to  nothing  but  111. 
It  begins  every  Wish,  every  View  it  must  bound, 
And  still  to  our  Welfare  essential  is  found. 
In  the  last  dying  Whisper  of  man  it  shall  rise, 
And  assist  us  with  Wings  to  ascend  to  the  skies  ; 
'Midst  the  Wonders  of  Nature  its  form  we  shall  view, 
Until  lost  in  the  Wreck  which  shall  Chaos  renew." 

His  heart  was  as  large  as  his  brain  was  keen  ;  if 
he  fascinated  his  equals,  he  no  less  won  the  love 
and  gratitude  of  his  humbler  neighbours.  During 
the  thirty  years  of  his  celebrity  his  doors  stood 
open  for  the  first  two  hours  of  every  over-busy  day 
to  the  poor  who  chose  to  come,  and  who  streamed 
in  from  the  country  round  to  be  tended  without 
a  fee.  He  devoted  to  their  care  gratuitously  the 
same  minute  and  searching  skill,  the  same  unerring 


memory  and  rapid  judgment,  the  same  urbane  and 
cordial  presence,  which  had  made  him  popular 
and  fashionable  among  those  who  were  glad  to 
pay  him  highly  for  these  gifts  ;  and  when  the  large 
heart  ceased  to  beat  and  the  keen  brain  to  toil, 
while  amongst  a  troop  of  friendly  mourners  I  fol- 
lowed his  remains  along  streets  darkened  by  the 
signs  of  universal  sorrow,  I  saw  the  crowd  of  poor 
—to  be  counted,  it  was  said,  by  hundreds — gathered 
in  from  village  and  from  slum  for  a  final  tribute  to 
the  friend  who  had  dispensed  among  them  health 
and  healing  through  so  many  years.  He  was  the 
last  of  the  old  Oxford  school ;  the  "  Brilliant  Man  " 
— to  quote  from  Henry  Bulwer — amongst  his  Uni- 
versity compeers,  as  was  Canning  among  a  wider 
and  more  high-placed  set.  He  retained  the  "  grand 
manner  "  of  a  fading  age  ;  the  refined  and  pointed, 
not  conventional  and  effusive,  courtesy  to  women  ; 
the  bounteous  fund  of  ever-ready  talk,  alternating 
not  monologist,  seasoned  not  swamped  with 
allusion,  recitation,  epigram.  They  played  as 
well  as  worked,  those  fine  old  fellows — luserunt 
satis  atque  biberunt — lost  and  won  their  guineas 
gaily,  chirruped  their  genial  wit  and  anecdote,  laid 
the  ghosts  of  eating  cares  in  floods  of  generous 
"  Comet "  port,  which  enriched  and  liberated, 
never  dulled  or  overfraught,  their  brains.  Some 
of  us  love  them  for  it  the  more  ;  let  the  "  sicci " 
who  start  away  from  wine,  the  purists  who  spy 
sin  in  cards,  remember  that  behind  this  radiant 
conviviality  the  higher  virtues  walked  their  round, 
moral  excellence  hand  in  hand  with  mental 
power ;  that  often,  as  in  Tuckwell's  case,  the  day 


which  culminated  in  joyous  revelry  began  in  self- 
devoted  altruism,  bidding  us  as  our  record  closes 
turn  from  the  catalogue  of  professional  and  social 
triumphs  to 

"  That  best  portion  of  a  good  man's  life, 
His  little,  nameless,  unremembered  acts 
Of  kindness  and  of  love." 



"  The  sound 

Of  instruments  that  made  melodious  chime 
Was  heard,  of  Harp  and  Organ  ;  and  who  moved 
Their  chords  and  stops  was  seen  ;  his  volant  touch 
Fled  and  pursued  transverse  the  resonant  Fugue" 


Early  Amateurs — Blanco  White — Newman — The  Bewildered  Butler — 
Musicians  a  Caste  apart — A  Notable  Organist — Jonathan  Sawell 
the  Singer — A  Letter  from  the  Eighteenth  Century — Jullien — The 
Amateur  Society — Oxford  becomes  Musical — "  Gregorian"  Music 
—Jenny  Lind's  Visit — Sir  Frederick  Ouseley — Sir  John  Stainer. 

WHEN  Music,  heavenly  maid,  was  young  in  the 
last  century,  she  had  few  votaries  in  academic 
Oxford.  The  traditions  of  the  place  were  against 
her ;  to  be  musical  was  bad  form.  There  was 
once,  to  be  sure,  a  Dean  of  Christchurch  who 
wrote  charming  glees  and  catches,  and  respectable 
church  music ;  but  the  solecisms  of  Dean  Aldrich 
were  expiated  by  his  successor,  Cyril  Jackson,  who 
pronounced  that  a  boy  "with  no  more  ear  nor  a 
stone  nor  no  more  voice  nor  an  ass  "  would  make 
an  excellent  chorister ;  and  by  Gaisford,  who  ap- 
pointed as  singing  men  worn-out  scouts  and  bed- 
makers.  In  the  Twenties  and  Thirties  there  were 
probably  not  half  -  a  -  dozen  amateurs  in  Oxford. 
Blanco  White  was  a  violinist,  so  was  Newman ; 
and  his  noble  passage  on  the  Inspiration  of  Music, 


with  its  curious  slip  as  to  fourteen  notes  in  the 
scale,  has  become  a  locus  classicus  y1  but  he  records 
the  bewilderment  of  the  Provost's  butler,  when, 
sent  to  announce  his  election  at  Oriel,  he  found 
the  new  Fellow  playing  on  the  fiddle,  and  inquired 
anxiously  if  he  had  not  mistaken  the  rooms  or 
come  to  the  wrong  person.  Donkin  played  both  the 
violin  and  the  piano  ;  George  Rowden  of  New  Col- 
lege was  one  of  the  best  double-bass  performers  in 
England  :  together  with  Donkin,  Menzies,  Driffield, 
Clifton,  and  Judge  Bayliss,  who  in  his  Qist  year 
still  survives,  he  helped  to  form  a  Brasenose  Har- 
monic Society,  which  practised  and  gave  concerts. 
Now  and  then  at  the  evening  parties  of  the  Heads 
a  gifted  lady  would,  with  Handel,  Haydn,  or 
Mozart,  compel,  like  Milton's  nightingale,  pleased 
silence ;  but  from  these  gatherings  music,  as  en- 
croaching upon  cards,  was  for  the  most  part  ostra- 
cised. Even  so  late  as  1846  Max  Muller,  fresh  from 
musical  Leipzig,  found  that  no  young  man,  even  if 
qualified,  would  stoop  to  the  music-stool  in  public, 
and  that  to  ask  a  Don  to  play  "  would  have  been 
considered  an  insult  " ;  while  Halle",  visiting  England 
two  years  later,  tells  us  that  for  a  gentleman  to  be 
able  to  play  upon  the  piano  was  looked  upon  as  a 
sign  of  effeminacy,  almost  of  vice.  For  by  here- 

1  His  sister  challenged  the  passage  in  writing  to  him  : 
"What  do  you  mean  by  fourteen  notes?"  He  answers  :  "I 
had  already  been  amused  and  provoked  to  find  my  gross 
blunder  about  the  4  fourteen.'  Pray  do  not  suppose  I  doubled 
the  notes  for  semitones,  though  it  looks  very  like  it.  The  truth 
is,  I  had  a  most  stupid  idea  in  my  head  that  there  were  fifteen 
semitones,  and  took  off  one  for  the  octave.  On  reading  it 
over  when  published  I  saw  the  absurdity." — "  Letters  and  Cor- 
respondence," vol.  ii.  p.  411. 


ditary  prejudice  the  professional  musician  was 
looked  upon  as  an  inferior,  to  be  paid  for  his 
services,  to  be  kept  socially  at  a  distance.  Prince 
Hal  bore  much  from  Falstaff,  but  broke  his  head 
for  likening  his  father  to  a  singing  man  at  Windsor; 
Mrs.  Thrale,  we  know,  was  deserted  and  de- 
nounced by  all  her  friends,  including  ungrateful 
Fanny  Burney,  for  marrying  the  blameless  music- 
master,  Piozzi.  Stately  Dr.  Williams,  when  Head- 
master of  Winchester,  took  to  hair-powder  because 
a  lady  mistook  him  for  a  bass  singer  in  the  cathe- 
dral ;  I  shall  recall  later  on  the  consternation  felt 
among  the  older  men  of  Oxford,  when  Ouseley, 
baronet,  gentleman  commoner,  Master  of  Arts, 
condescended  to  become  Doctor  of  Music ;  and 
we  all  remember  Mr.  Osborne's  contempt  for  the 
"  Honourables"  to  whom  his  daughter  introduced 
him  — "  Lords,  indeed?  Why,  at  one  of  her 
swarreys  I  saw  one  of  'em  speak  to  a  dam  fiddler, 
a  fellar  I  despise." 

So  music  was  relegated  contemptuously  to  a 
quasi-professional  set,  the  chaplains,  singing  men, 
Bible  clerks,  of  the  three  choral  Colleges ;  its 
Doctorate  was  a  sham,  the  graduates  not  admitted 
to  the  sacred  scarlet  semicircle  in  the  Theatre ;  its 
Professor,  with  a  salary  of  £12  a  year,  appearing 
only  at  Commemoration  to  play  the  ramshackle  old 
organ  in  the  Theatre.  The  Professor  at  that  time 
was  Sir  Henry  Bishop,  composer  of  deservedly 
popular  part-songs,  but  inferior  as  a  musician  to  his 
very  eminent  predecessor,  Dr.  Crotch.  Of  the 
three  organists  only  one  was  notable,  Dr.  Stephen 
Elvey  of  New  College,  a  good  harmonist,  an  enthu- 


siastic  Handelian,  though  the  loss  of  a  leg  prevented 
him  from  playing  pedal  fugues,  but  of  rough  manner 
and  suspicious  temper.  On  the  death  of  his  first 
wife  he  had  married,  with  rather  unusual  prompti- 
tude, a  pretty  girl  known  as  Perdita  amongst  the 
New  College  undergraduates,  who  used  to  crowd 
the  "  Slipe"  gate  on  Sundays  after  service  in  order  to 
see  her  pass  from  Holywell  Church.  He  presided 
shortly  afterwards  at  a  concert,  and  the  wag  who 
arranged  its  programme  had  inserted  a  glee  by 
his  brother  George,  which  appeared  in  the  bill  as 
"  Ah  !  Why  so  soon— Elvey  ?  " 

I  remember  the  performance  of  Sir  George 
Elvey's  Bachelor's  exercise  in  the  Music  Room,  I 
think  in  1838,  when  Stephen  Elvey  conducted  in 
the  splendid  robes  which  I  then  for  the  first  time 
saw,  the  new  Bachelor  sitting  at  the  piano.  The 
choral  services  in  the  Chapels  were  not  of  a  high 
order,  though  individual  voices  of  special  sweetness 
kept  up  their  popularity.  The  finest  adult  singer 
of  that  time  was  Jonathan  Sawell,  chaplain  of  New 
College  and  Magdalen,  who  possessed  the  rare  pure 
Mario-like  tenor,  almost  touching  alto  in  the  higher 
range.  He  long  survived  his  voice,  singing  with 
husky  wooden  notes  into  the  Fifties ;  a  cheery, 
popular  fellow,  and  an  admirable  oar ;  he  and 
Moon  of  Magdalen,  son  to  Alderman  or  Lord  Mayor 
Moon,  placed  on  the  river  the  first  outrigger  skiffs 
seen  at  Oxford.  His  window  in  Magdalen,  opposite 
to  the  Physic  Garden,  was  always  beautifully  floral ; 
an  adornment  long  since  universal,  peculiar  then  to 
him  and  to  Dr.  Peter  Maurice  of  New  College.  As 
for  the  chorister  boys,  they  ran  wild.  Their  nominal 


master  at  Magdalen  was  an  elderly  Fellow,  George 
Grantham,  who  came  to  a  tragic  end,  falling  out  of 
his  window  at  bedtime  into  the  deer  park,  and 
found  there  next  morning  by  his  scout,  dead  with 
a  broken  neck,  the  deer  crowding  round  him  in  an 
alarmed  circle.  His  grave,  with  G.  G.  incised,  is  in 
the  corner  of  the  cloisters  between  the  chapel 
door  and  the  window  opposite.  There  was  a  fire 
in  the  antechapel  at  that  time,  and  the  surpliced 
boys  used  as  they  passed  it  to  deposit  chestnuts  and 
potatoes,  which  they  recovered,  matura  et  coda,  when 
they  came  out.  The  New  College  brats  were  not 
under  better  discipline.  Many  years  ago,  while 
lionising  some  strangers  in  the  Chapel,  I  observed 
that  the  plaster  wing  of  a  sham  oak  angel  had  been 
broken  off,  and  from  the  crevice  behind  protruded 
a  piece  of  paper.  I  drew  it  out,  yellow,  stained, 
and  creased.  I  suppose  that  interest  accrues  even 
to  trivial  personal  records  when  ripened  by  the 
lapse  of  years.  We  take  no  note  to-day  of  a  child's 
naked  footprint  on  the  sand,  but  the  impress  of  the 
baby  foot  on  the  Roman  villa  floor  at  Brading  is  a 
poem  fertile  in  suggestion.  So  I  copy  the  crumpled 
fragment  as  it  lies  before  me  :  "  When  this  you  find, 
recall  me  to  your  mind.  James  Philip  Hewlett, 
Subwarden's  chorister,  April  26,  1796."  There 
follows  the  roll  of  boys  ;  then  this  edifying  legend  : 
"  Yeates  just  gone  out  of  chapel,  making  as  if 
he  was  ill,  to  go  to  Botleigh  with  Miss  Watson. 
Mr.  Prickett  reads  prayers.  Mr.  Lardner  is  now 
reading  the  second  lesson.  Mr.  Jenks  read  the 
first.  Slatter  shams  a  bad  Eye  because  he  did  not 
know  the  English  of  the  theme  and  could  not  do  it. 


A  whole  holiday  yesterday  being  St.  Mark.  Only 
the  Subwarden  of  the  Seniors  at  Prayers."  This 
last  is  significant.  So  we  take  our  leave  of  naughty 
Master  James  Philip  Hewlett — "/,  curre,  little  gown 
boy,"  as  dear  Thacke-  ay  says. 

The  first  pioneer  of  musical  feeling  in  Oxford 
was  Jullien,  an  affected,  grimacing,  overdressed 
Frenchman,  but  a  clever  maestro,  whose  brilliant 
band  played  the  dance  and  march  music  which  set 
elderly  heads  and  bonnets  wagging  in  imperfect 
time,  and  who  brought  out  excellent  soloists.  He 
often  came  amongst  us,  and  the  men  who  heard 
Koenig  and  Richardson  at  his  concerts  themselves 
took  up  the  cornet  and  the  flute.  Oppressive 
practising  d  la  Dick  Swiveller  prevailed  ;  but  the 
taste  for  music  spread.  It  was  found  that  Thai- 
berg  and  Madame  Dulcken  would  fill  the  Star 
Assembly  Room ;  that  scientific  and  high-priced 
Chamber  Quartetts,  by  Blagrove,  Clementi,  and  the 
Reinagles,  brought  to  Wyatt's  room  fit  audience 
though  few.  In  1844  came  Hullah  ;  large  classes 
working  under  him  in  Merton  College  Hall ;  mature 
and  unmusical  M.A.'s  hammering  away  without 
much  result  at  the  "  From  his  low  and  grassy  bed," 
which  formed  the  Pons  Asinorum  of  the  Hullah 
Manual.  The  practising  soon  died  out ;  but  the 
real  musicians  took  the  hint.  An  Amateur  Society 
was  formed,  with  W.  E.  Jelf  of  Christchurch  for  its 
president,  Lord  Seaham,  afterwards  Lord  London- 
derry, as  secretary,  a  committee  highly  selected 
and  unprofessional  :  and,  with  the  help  of  Grim- 
met's  band,  concerts  were  given  twice  a  term;  at 
which  men  since  famous  made  their  debut.  Murray, 


of  Queen's,  was  there,  who  sang  subsequently  with 
Louisa  Pyne  on  the  Opera  stage  at  Boulogne ; 
Thomson,  afterwards  Archbishop  of  York,  sounded 
his  magnificent  baritone,  publicly  heard  before  only 
in  the  Boar's  Head  anthem  upon  Christmas  Day ; 
young  Frederick  Ouseley  improvised  at  the  piano  ; 
later  on  came  the  late  Sir  Herbert  Oakeley,  a  slim 
boyish  figure,  with  a  passion  for  Handel.  Musical 
talent  was  everywhere  lying  loose  ;  it  needed  some 
one  to  combine  it,  and  the  someone  was  Dr.  Corfe, 
who  succeeded  Marshall  at  the  Christchurch  organ. 
He  formed  classes  of  amateurs  for  practice  of 
classical  music,  training  them  laboriously  in  his 
picturesque  old  house  Beam  Hall,  in  Merton  Lane ; 
until  in  1847  they  gave  a  public  performance  of 
"Acis  and  Galatea,"  Corfe  rolling  his  rs,  Staudigl- 
wise,  in  lt  O  ruddier  than  the  cherry/'  Mrs.  Corfe 
singing  the  exquisite  Galatea  solos.  This  was 
followed  by  "The  Antigone,"  by  " Alexander's 
Feast,"  and,  more  daring  still,  by  Beethoven's  Mass 
in  C.  At  the  opening  of  the  new  Magdalen  School 
on  May  Day,  1851,  an  amateur  choir,  conducted  by 
Blyth,  who  had  followed  old  Vickery  at  Magdalen, 
performed,  without  instruments,  a  series  of  sacred 
pieces.  We  sang,  I  remember,  the  Ave  Verum, 
lately  brought  to  England  by  the  Berlin  choir; 
Croft's  "We  will  rejoice";  "Teach  me,  O  Lord," 
and  many  more.  Our  great  feat  was  a  Cantata  of 
Bach's,  which  occupied  twenty-one  minutes,  Blyth 
informing  us  with  pride  at  its  close  that  we  had 
kept  the  pitch  exactly.  Amongst  our  performers 
was  old  G.  V.  Cox  the  Bedel,  survival  from  a 
former  age.  He  had  been  the  first  chorister  whom 


Dr.  Routh  appointed  more  than  half  a  century 
before.  Healthy  development  is  apt  to  throw 
down  morbid  outgrowths,  manifested  here  in  a 
spurious  but  short-lived  influx  of  the  so-called 
"  Gregorian "  music,  a  reversion  to  the  modes 
prevalent  in  Christian  worship  before  the  discovery 
of  counterpoint.  The  freak  was  ecclesiological, 
not  musical ;  part  of  the  general  putting  back  of 
clock  hands  which  characterised  the  Church  move- 
ment of  the  time.  It  was  adopted  by  some 
amongst  the  clergy  as  a  royal  road  to  music, 
traversable  without  knowledge  and  without  train- 
ing ;  was  rejected  as  an  indefensible  anachronism 
by  musicians,  who  noted  the  unsuitableness  of  the 
"  tones  "  to  English  words,  their  inexpressive  bald- 
ness unless  sung  in  unison  by  eighty  or  a  hundred 
voices,  the  intolerable  impropriety  of  appending  to 
them  harmonies  for  English  Church  performance. 
Meanwhile  Ouseley  brought  his  vast  learning  to  pul- 
verise the  theory  of  their  derivation  from  the  Jewish 
Temple  service,  pointing  out  that  the  melodic 
intervals  of  Oriental  music  could  have  borne  no 
resemblance  to  the  Greek  system  of  tones  and 
semitones  on  which  were  founded  the  chants  of  the 
ancient  Western  Church.  It  is  recorded  that  an 
old  gentleman,  whose  time-honoured  Sunday  wor- 
ship had  been  garnished  by  a  new  Rector  with 
"  Gregorians,"  ventured  to  expostulate,  but  was 
told  that  they  were  of  consecrated  antiquity,  being 
in  fact  the  very  tones  to  which  David  set  the 
Psalms.  He  deferred  to  the  Rector's  erudition,  and 
thanked  him  for  explaining  a  passage  in  the  Old 
Testament  which  he  had  never  understood  before 


—why  it  was,  namely,  that  when  David  played  the 
harp  before  King  Saul,  Saul  threw  a  javelin  at  him. 
Whether,  without  its  incipient  musical  awaken- 
ing, Oxford  would  have  gone  crazy  over  Jenny 
Lind  in  December,  1848,  I  cannot  say.  She  came 
as  Stanley's  guest,  having  stayed  with  his  father 
at  the  Palace  when  she  sang  at  Norwich.  The 
Bishop,  a  little  black  figure,  hopping  about  the 
Cathedral  aisles  like  Vincent  Bourne's  "Corni- 
cula,"  was  known  locally  as  the  Crow ;  a  nick- 
name previously  borne  by  his  brother,  Lord  Stanley 
of  Alderley,  the  husband  of  Maria  Josepha  Holroyd; 
and  Jenny's  visit  produced  the  epigram  : — 

"  Ornithologists  ancient  and  modern  attest 
That  the  Cuckoo-bird  visits  the  Nightingale's  nest, 
But  not  Stanley's  own  Alderley  Bird-book  can  show1 
That  the  Nightingale  roosts  in  the  nest  of  the  Crow." 

She  sang  in  the  Theatre,  which  was  crowded  from 
area  to  roof ;  here,  as  elsewhere,  winning  every 
heart.  That  the  sight  of  the  interior  with  its 
thousand  black  gowns  should  have  impressed  her 
to  tears  is  perhaps  a  tradition  difficult  of  accept- 
ance ;  there  were  tears  in  the  hearts  if  not  in  the 
eyes  of  many  amongst  her  hearers.  Great  was  the 
demand  for  her  autograph  ;  most  good-naturedly 
she  acceded  to  it.  One  undergraduate,  who  rushed 
into  poetry  and  sent  her  his  effusion,  still  retains 
her  answer — the  verse  from  Brady  and  Tate  : 

"  Happy  are  they  and  only  they, 
Who  from  Thy  judgments  never  stray, 
Who  know  what's  right,  nor  only  so, 
But  also  practise  what  they  know," 

1  "A  Familiar  History  of  Birds,"  by  the  Rev.  Edward  Stanley, 
Rector  of  Alderley,  Cheshire  (afterwards  Bishop  of  Norwich). 


with  "  In  remembrance  of  Jenny  Lind,"  and  the 
date.  On  the  day  after  the  concert  she  came, 
veiled  and  incognita,  to  New  College  Chapel  :  but 
the  Subwarden,  Stacpoole,  near  whose  stall  she 
sat,  detected  her.  It  happened  that  the  Hall 
was  lighted  and  its  piano  open  for  the  Thursday 
glee  club  practice ;  Stacpoole,  after  showing  her 
the  Chapel,  cunningly  brought  her  on  to  see  the 
Hall,  by  this  time  filled  with  men,  and  uncere- 
moniously asked  if  she  would  sing.  She  looked 
surprised,  but  unaffectedly  consented  ;  bade  the 
lady  with  her  accompany,  and  sang  to  us  a 
cavatina  from  Der  Freyschiitz.  I  remember  her, 
poising  herself  like  a  fisherman  about  to  throw 
a  casting-net,  before  she  flung  out  her  wonderful 
trills.  Many  years  afterwards  I  heard  her  again 
in  Max  Midler's  drawing-room  ;  the  old  execution 
was  there ;  the  nightingale  warble,  the  timbre- 
argentin,  was  gone.  She  told  us  that  A.  P.  Stanley, 
who  had  no  ear  and  hated  music,  or  at  least  was 
bored  by  it,  usually  left  the  room  when  she  warbled. 
But  hearing  her  one  day  sing  "  I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth,"  he  told  her  she  had  given  him 
an  idea  of  what  people  mean  by  music.  Only 
once  before,  he  said,  the  same  feeling  had  come 
over  him,  when  in  front  of  the  Palace  at  Vienna 
he  had  heard  a  tattoo  performed  by  four  hundred 
drummers  !  So,  Eothen  Kinglake,  we  are  told, 
also  tone-deaf,  astray  by  some  mischance  at  a 
matinee  musicale,  and  asked  by  the  hostess  what 
kind  of  music  he  preferred,  answered — "  I  certainly 
have  a  preference  ;  it  is  for  the  drum."  One  thinks 
too  of  M.  Jourdain's  passion  for  la  trompette  marine. 


Not  till  1855  was  music  validly  recognised  by  the 
University ;  that  achievement  was  reserved  for  Sir 
Frederick  Ouseley.  Sir  Henry  Bishop  died ;  the 
appointment  rested  with  the  Proctors,  and  through 
one  of  them,  Holland  of  New  College,  a  good 
musician,  it  was  conferred  on  Ouseley.  The  neces- 
sary reforms  were  two  :  that  the  degree  should 
become  a  reality,  and  that  the  Professor  should 
not  only  profess,  but  teach.  Hitherto  any  one 
seeking  the  Mus.Doc.  had  merely  to  inscribe  his 
name  as  a  nominal  member  of  some  College, 
send  in  an  orchestral  thesis,  which  was  invariably 
accepted,  pay  a  band  for  its  performance,  and  take 
rank  as  an  Oxford  Doctor.  Ouseley  instituted  a 
public  examination  by  three  competent  examiners 
in  historical  and  critical  knowledge  of  music,  and 
in  elementary  classics  and  mathematics,  demand- 
ing also  from  each  candidate  a  lengthy  written 
composition  to  be  submitted  to  himself.  The 
stringency  of  the  test  was  shown  by  the  fact  that 
in  its  early  application  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  candi- 
dates failed,  not  a  few  of  the  plucks  being  a  judg- 
ment on  "  cribbed  exercises,"  which  his  immense 
knowledge  enabled  him  to  expose.  I  remember 
how  the  Professor,  kindest-hearted  of  men,  suffered 
in  inflicting  rejections.  He  was  beset  by  piteous, 
even  tearful,  appeals,  or  by  fierce  expostulations ; 
had  sometimes  to  escape  into  a  friend's  house  from 
imploring  remonstrants  who  chivied  him  in  the 
streets ;  but  he  kept  conscientiously  to  the  line  he 
had  drawn,  with  the  result  that  in  a  few  years'  time 
the  Oxford  Doctorate  came  to  be  estimated  as  it 
had  never  been  before.  His  lectures,  somewhat 



obscure  and  cramped  in  style,  owed  popularity 
to  the  practical  illustration  of  them  on  the  organ 
or  piano  by  his  friend  Mr.  Parratt,  and  to  the 
volunteer  assistance  of  a  well-coached  vocal  and 
instrumental  band.  So  at  last  Queen  Calliope 
came  down  from  heaven  and  made  a  home  in 
Oxford.  I  am  told  she  abides  there  still ;  that 
Ouseley's  white  and  crimson  mantle  fell  upon  a 
worthy  Elisha,  whose  advent  to  St.  Paul's  had 
been  hailed  by  the  innocent  quatrain  : — 

"  St.  Paul's  had  a  loss 
In  Dr.  T.  Goss  ; 
I'm  sure  it's  a  gainer 
In  Dr.  J.  Stainer;" 

that  by  his  promotion  to  the  vacant  Chair  Oxford 
was  a  gainer  in  her  turn  ;  that  if  Sir  Frederick 
Ouseley  made  music  respectable  in  the  University, 
Sir  John  Stainer  made  it  beloved.  But  this  is 
more  recent  history;  and  the  Neleian  sovereign 
old,  though  his  confidences  to  Patroclus  were 
sometimes  garrulous  in  their  old-world  reminis- 
cence, never  bored  that  Homeric  Man  Friday  by 
recapitulation  of  contemporary  events. 

"  Plague  on't,  quoth  Time  to  Thomas  Hearne, 
Whatever  I  forget,  you  learn." 

NOTE. — A  lady  reading  this  chapter  recognised  her  great- 
grandfather in  the  recording  chorister,  Master  James  Philip 
Hewlett.  She  tells  me  that  he  grew  up  to  be  Chaplain  of 
New  College  and  Curate  of  St.  Ebbe's,  dying  young.  His 
brother  was  the  author  of  "  Peter  Priggins,"  mentioned  on 
page  85. 



"  The  seedsman,  Memory, 

Sowed  my  deep-furrowed  thought  with  many  a  Name, 
Whose  glory  will  not  die" 


An  old  Diary — Oxford  in  the  Thirties  as  depicted  in  Fiction — Its 
more  Essential  Aspects — Some  Great  Undergraduates— And  a 
Great  Tutor — "Tom"  Acland — His  Achievements  at  Oxford — 
His  Torrential  Eloquence — The  "Uniomachia" — Tom  Brancker 
— Solomon  Caesar  Malan — His  Seventy  Languages — Stanley — 
Matthew  Arnold — Clough — Thorold  Rogers — A  Kindly  Action 
— An  Interchange  of  Amenities. 

MANY  years  ago,  with  a  collector's  instinct,  I  ex- 
humed for  sixpence  a  ragged  manuscript  from  the 
rubbish  heap  of  a  Barbican  bookstall.  It  was  the 
diary  of  an  old  Rugbeian,  covering  his  residence 
at  Oxford  through  1830  and  1831.  His  name  was 
Trevor  Wheler,  cadet  of  a  Warwickshire  family 
living  in  their  ancient  manor-house  at  a  village 
called  Leamington  Hastings,  and  he  came  to  Ox- 
ford by  the  Regulator  coach,  going  on  to  London 
when  the  term  was  over  on  the  box  of  the  Royal 
Defiance.  The  Trevor  Whelers  of  to-day  have 
tried  to  identify  the  diarist.  They  think  he  was 
Henry  Trevor  Wheler,  who  went  to  India,  returned 
and  took  Orders.  His  name,  I  think,  spelled  Wheeler, 
occurs  near  the  bottom  of  the  M.A.  list  in  my  1836 

Oxford   Calendar.     I    lent   the   manuscript   to   old 



Bloxam,  the  Rugby  antiquary,  who  died  without 
returning  it.  This  Wheler  seems  to  have  been  a 
quiet,  orderly  fellow :  he  kept  morning  chapel 
strictly,  went  always  to  St.  Mary's,  where  on  one 
occasion  he  heard  Keble  preach ;  and  usually  read 
a  sermon  in  his  own  rooms  on  Sunday  night.  He 
corresponds  with  several  female  Christian  names, 
and  has  written  Byron's  stanzas  on  "  Woman, 
lovely  woman  "  in  the  first  page  of  his  journal,  with 
the  date  June  I4th  attached,  evidently  Comme- 
moration Week.  He  gives  frequent  wine  parties, 
among  the  guests  being  Roundell  and  William 
Palmer  and  Piers  Claughton,  and  always  carefully 
records  the  number  of  corks  he  drew.  He  break- 
fasts with  Tommy  Short  of  Trinity,  of  whom  I 
shall  speak  anon.  He  goes  to  New  College  Chapel, 
and  to  the  Tyrolese  singers  at  the  Music  Room. 
He  frequents  the  Union,  where  seven  men  are 
blackballed  in  one  evening,  where  Acland  senior 
(the  late  Sir  Thomas),  is  elected  treasurer  and 
Gladstone  secretary,  and  where  debates  are  held 
on  Jewish  disabilities,  and  on  the  superiority  of 
Byron  to  Shelley,  Sunderland  coming  express  from 
Cambridge,  with  Arthur  Hallam  and  Monckton 
Milnes,  to  speak  upon  the  latter  theme.  Sunder- 
land, we  may  remember,  was  the  contemporary 
of  Tennyson,  who  described  him  as  "a  very 
plausible,  Parliament-like,  self-satisfied  speaker  at 
the  Union,"  and  sketched  him  mercilessly  in  the 
poem  called  "A  Character."  His  sad  story  is  told 
in  Sir  Wemyss  Reid's  "  Life  of  Lord  Houghton  " 
(vol.  L,  p.  76).  Wheler  "sits"  in  the  Little-Go 
school,  and  hears  a  man  construe  spicea  virga  a 


"  spicy  virgin."  He  buys  the  new  edition  of  the 
Waverley  Novels,  and,  attending  Wise's  sale-room, 
has  a  lot  of  seventy  books  knocked  down  to  him 
for  .£1,  2S.  The  composition  is  neither  incisive, 
eventful,  nor  picturesque ;  but  it  is  interesting,  not 
only  as  all  diaries  are  interesting  by  lifting  the 
curtain  of  a  fellow-mortal's  mental  privacy,  but 
as  raising  from  the  shades  with  contemporary 
vividness  the  Undergraduate  Oxford  of  seventy- 
seven  years  ago. 

We  may  read  of  this  Oxford  in  forgotten  novels  : 
its  vulgar  side  in  Hewlett's  "  Peter  Priggins "  ;  its 
rollicking  side  in  Dickinson's  "Vincent  Eden," 
published  in  Bentley's  Miscellany,  and  abruptly 
ceasing  through  pressure  on  the  editor,  it  was 
believed,  from  apprehensive  University  authorities. 
In  "  Loss  and  Gain  "  we  have  its  obscurantist  side, 
due  to  the  author's  teaching;  the  picked  men  of 
ability  in  its  pages — Sheffield,  Reding,  Carlton — 
ranging  over  not  high  themes  of  philosophy, 
science,  culture,  but  the  nightmares  of  Tractarian 
theology  and  the  characteristics  of  a  true  Church. 
Mere  foils  were  men  like  those,  setting  off  the 
nobler  Oxford  of  their  time ;  and  never  in  the 
history  of  the  University  has  a  decade  opened 
and  progressed  amid  a  group  so  brilliant.  In  1830 
we  have  Gladstone,  Liddell,  Charles  Wordsworth, 
Hope,  T.  Acland,  Manning,  Church,  Halford 
Vaughan,  William  Adams,  Walter  Hamilton,  Lords 
Dalhousie,  Elgin,  Lincoln,  Canning,  to  take  names 
almost  at  random.  Nor  was  this  dawn  of  golden 
times  confined  to  Oxford ;  at  Cambridge  in  the 
very  same  year  gathered  a  not  less  rare  group 


of  conjurati  fratres :  Spedding,  Thomson,  Brook- 
field,  Trench,  Tennyson,  Monckton  Milnes,  Charles 
Duller,  Merivale,  Arthur  Hallam,  Kinglake,  Ster- 
ling. There  is  deep  pathos  in  these  sparkling 
catalogues.  We  see  the  band  of  friends,  cheerful, 
united,  sanguine,  starting  together  on  life's  path. 
Pass  sixty  years,  we  check  the  list,  to  find  a 
scattered  remnant  of  survivors,  telling  sadly  of 
havoc  wrought  in  their  train  by  the  storms  of 
life,  themselves  too  often  alienated  at  its  close. 
But  the  record  of  their  deeds  survives.  Outworn, 
disappointed,  hostile,  not  one  of  them  lived  in 
vain.  The  severances  of  party  and  of  creed  are 
incidents  of  independent  warfare ;  but  the  soul 
that  is  fervent  and  heroic  not  only  fights  its  own 
way  to  perfection,  but  makes  ignoble  sloth  more 
odious,  brings  high  aim  within  the  readier  grasp 
of  the  generation  and  the  men  who  follow  it. 

"  And  O,  blithe  breeze  !  and  O,  great  seas, 

Though  ne'er,  that  earliest  parting  past, 
On  your  wide  plain  they  join  again, 

Together  lead  them  home  at  last. 
One  port,  methought,  alike  they  sought, 

One  purpose  hold  where'er  they  fare — 
O,  bounding  breeze  !     O,  rushing  seas  ! 

At  last,  at  last,  unite  them  there  ! " 

First  among  the  Oxford  comrades  of  that  time, 
juvenum  publica  cura,  universal  undergraduate 
theme,  ranked  Charles  Wordsworth ;  tutor  to 
Gladstone  and  Manning,  to  Sir  Francis  Doyle  and 
Walter  Hamilton,  Acland,  Hope,  Lords  Lincoln 
and  Canning ;  the  best  scholar,  cricketer,  oar, 
skater,  racquet  player,  dancer,  pugilist,  of  his  day. 

From  the  Richmond  Portrait 


His  proficiency  in  this  last  branch  of  antique 
athletics  was  attested  by  a  fight  at  Harrow  between 
himself  and  Trench,  which  sent  the  future  Arch- 
bishop to  a  London  dentist,  in  order  to  have  his 
teeth  set  to  rights.  "That  man,"  whispered  Lord 
Malmesbury  to  Lord  Derby,  when  Wordsworth 
had  shaken  hands  with  the  Chancellor  on  receiving 
his  honorary  degree,  "that  man  might  have  been 
anything  he  pleased."  His  attainments  and  capa- 
cities were  set  off  by  an  unusually  tall  and  hand- 
some figure, 

Gratior  et  pulchro  veniens  in  corpore  virtus. 

His  aunt,  the  Poet's  wife,  told  me  that  of  all 
the  young  men  she  had  ever  known  he  was  the 
most  charming  in  manner,  mind,  and  person.  He 
was  beyond  all  his  contemporaries  an  adept  in 
Greek  and  Latin  versification  ;  whatever  of  noble 
thought,  of  touching  sentiment,  of  transient 
humour,  gained  access  to  his  mind,  came  draped 
in  one  or  other  of  the  classic  tongues.  His  grief 
at  his  wife's  death  found  expression  in  a  perfect 
Latin  couplet,  untranslated,  untranslatable.1  A 
junior  boy  whom  he  once  found  eating  cake  in 
"  Meads  "  at  Winchester,  artlessly  offered  him  a 
piece,  which  he  accepted,  sending  to  the  boy  next 
day  a  pile  of  cakes  and  cream  from  the  confec- 
tioner, with  the  note, 

(Requiting  guerdon,  cake  for  cake,  receive)  ; 

and  his  very  inscriptions  in  hotel  books  when  on 
a  tour  were  Greek  Iambics.2     His  career  as  Master 

1  Appendix  E.  2  Ibid. 


in  College  at  Winchester  justified  the  promise  of 
his  youth :  he  raised  the  scholarship  as  well  as 
the  morality  of  the  boys.  His  Greek  Grammar 
was  accepted  by  every  school  in  England  except 
Eton,  which,  preferring  to  go  wrong  with  Plato, 
clung  to  its  old  inferior  manual ;  and  he  imparted 
to  Winchester  a  tone  of  unaffected,  thoughtful 
piety  which  long  outlived  his  rule.  At  Gladstone's 
entreaty — High  Churchmen  saw  in  the  reviving 
Episcopal  Church  of  Scotland  a  happy  hunting 
ground  for  English  Tractarianism — he  undertook 
the  Headship  of  Glenalmond  College,  becoming 
soon  afterwards  Bishop  of  St.  Andrews.  It  was 
a  sacrifice  ;  had  he  remained  in  England  he  was 
to  have  been  Dean  of  Rochester.  Through  no 
fault  of  his  own  he  failed  as  Warden  ;  as  Bishop 
he  did  all  that  man  could  do,  but  the  post  was 
not  worthy  of  his  powers ;  and  the  illustrious 
Oxford  paragon  ended,  like  his  Swedish  name- 
sake, amid  the  trivial  surroundings  of  a  petty 
fortress  and  a  barren  strand.  Having  been  his 
pupil  in  early  years,  I  reviewed  his  Autobiography 
in  a  London  Weekly.  He  was  pleased  by  my 
notice  of  him,  sought  my  name,  and  we  exchanged 
many  letters  lively  with  memories  of  the  past. 
The  last  I  received  from  him  was  a  New  Year 
Greeting,  with  closing  invocation  of  multos  felices 
annos,  ultimum  felicissimum.  It  was  his  own 
annus  ultimus ;  he  died  before  the  day  came 
round  again. 

One  more  confederate  in  this  i'epa  veorijs,  this 
sacred  band  of  youthful  brothers,  let  me  com- 
memorate. Double  First  Class,  when  Double 


Firsts  meant  much,  Fellow  of  All  Souls,  heir  to 
beautiful  Killerton  with  its  mighty  trap  rocks, 
forest  scenery,  wild  ponies,  and  red  deer,  Mr.  or 
"  Tom "  Acland,  as  every  one  called  him,  was 
heralded  into  public  life  by  unusual  expectations. 
He  was  in  Parliament  for  a  time,  made  no  great 
mark,  married,  early  lost  his  wife,  threw  himself 
heartbroken  into  agriculture,  under  the  tuition  of 
his  friend  and  relative  Philip  Pusey.  He  came 
late  to  his  inheritance,  for  the  Aclands  are  a 
longaeval  race,  and  old  Sir  Thomas  lived  to  a  great 
age.  The  contrast  between  them  was  amusing  ; 
the  father  with  manners  regal  in  their  measured 
graciousness  and  polish,  the  son  jerky  and  dis- 
cursive in  talk,  movement,  ideas.  "  Tom  thinks 
so  fast,"  said  a  near  relation,  "  that  none  of  us 
can  keep  up  with  him."  During  the  Fifties  it  was 
my  rlot  to  see  a  good  deal  of  him  in  Oxford  :  he 
used  to  walk  with  me  in  the  streets,  recalling  his 
early  life,  the  Newmania  and  its  influence  on  his 
mental  growth,  his  association  with  the  (<  Young 
England  "  movement,  whose  last  surviving  repre- 
sentative was  the  late  Duke  of  Rutland.  Stopping 
opposite  to  St.  Mary  Magdalen  Church  one  day, 
he  told  me  how  he  and  Jacobson  had  taken  there 
F.  D.  Maurice,  when  an  undergraduate,  to  be 
baptised.  He  was  full  at  that  time  of  the  "  Middle 
Class  Examinations,"  which,  with  Canon  Brereton, 
he  had  initiated  in  Devonshire,  and  which  de- 
veloped ultimately  into  the  Oxford  Local  Exa- 
minations. To  him  especially,  to  his  experience 
of  West  Buckland  School,  his  patience,  wisdom, 
and  enthusiasm,  that  great  educational  experiment 


was  due.  I  remember,  too,  that  we  went  together 
to  Max  Miiller's  opening  lecture  on  Comparative 
Mythology  ;  he  was  disturbed,  fidgeted,  bit  his 
nails.  "  It  frightens  one,"  he  said.  I  was  reading 
the  "  Odyssey  "  with  a  pupil  one  day  ;  he  came  in, 
and  I  handed  him  a  book  ;  he  listened  for  ten 
minutes,  then  gave  me  back  the  volume,  saying  : 
u  How  quickly  one  forgets  !  but  for  the  Latin 
translation  at  the  foot  I  could  not  have  followed  "  ; 
going  on  to  tell  me  how  with  Bunsen  and  Philip 
Pusey  he  used  to  read  Homer  daily  through  a 
winter  in  Rome,  and  imitating  Bunsen's  Conti- 
nental pronunciation  of  the  sonorous  lines. 

In  1865  I  gave  evidence  on  School  Teaching  of 
Science  before  the  Schools  Inquiry  Commission,  of 
which  he  was  a  member.  He  questioned  me  at 
great  length  as  to  examination  methods,  as  to  the 
machinery  needful  for  extending  the  local  examina- 
tion to  the  public  schools,  as  to  the  desirableness  of 
a  Government  Board  of  Higher  Education,  with 
a  special  Minister  at  its  head.  He  became  some- 
what iterative ;  and  the  chairman,  Lord  Taunton, 
cut  him  short ;  he  rose  with  an  impatient  gesture 
and  went  to  the  fire,  but  said  to  me  afterwards, 
"  I  kept  my  temper."  We  travelled  down  to 
Oxford  together ;  he  was  in  high  spirits,  having 
just  re-entered  Parliament  after  twenty  years  of 
exile,  and  poured  forth  optimistic  talk.  My  sceptical 
interjections  grated  on  him  once  or  twice ;  he  was 
uneasy,  too,  lest  my  science  teaching  should  over- 
shadow the  imaginative  and  reverential  side  of  the 
boy-mind.  "  Don't  be  too  materialistic,"  he  shouted 
into  my  cab  from  the  pavement,  as  I  dropped  him 


at  his  brother's  house  in  Broad  Street.  Yet  again 
I  was  to  know  him,  in  his  home  at  Killerton.  I 
had  left  Tatmton  School  :  and  finding  that  I  was 
uncertain  as  to  my  next  move,  he  made  me  his 
Chaplain,  and  put  his  house  at  Sprydoncote  at  my 
disposal  for  a  time  ;  an  act  of  kindness  for  which  I 
shall  ever  think  of  him  with  gratitude.  He  was  now 
Sir  Thomas — a  far  abler  man  than  his  father  in  all 
the  higher  requirements  of  a  great  country  gentle- 
man's position,  yet,  somehow,  never  filling  his 
father's  place  in  local  sentiment ;  less  outwardly 
imposing,  less  captivating,  suasive,  patriarchal.  I 
saw  him  constantly  ;  he  used  to  drop  in  and  talk 
on  the  winter  afternoons.  He  was  not  a  man  of 
reminiscences,  nor  did  his  speech  linger  on  scholar- 
ship and  books  ;  present  problems,  social  chiefly  and 
theological,  seemed  to  fill  his  mind.  He  would 
question  me  repeatedly  as  to  my  own  mental 
development,  wishing  to  trace  the  process  by  which 
High  Church  rigidity  in  the  green  salad-days 
changed  into  independent  rationalism  later  on.  He 
was  devoted  to  agriculture,  of  which  I  had  some 
experience  ;  to  allotments,  to  cottage  building  in  its 
sanitary,  profitable,  moral  aspects.  My  microscope, 
which  stood  constantly  in  employ,  used  to  puzzle 
him — he  always  went  to  see  what  new  marvel  I  had 
got,  with  an  ever-renewed  protest  against  the  cult 
of  the  infinitely  little. 

He  was  not  amcebaean  in  his  talk  ;  it  sped  forth 
torrential,  and  you  had  to  listen ;  it  fascinated  for 
the  first  half-hour,  then  to  the  hearer  followed  loss 
of  sequence,  logical  perplexity,  swamped  surrender, 
boredom,  headache,  desperation.  I  once  compared 


notes  with  a  kindred  patient,  who  had  the  day  be- 
fore dined  with  him  tete-d-tete.  He  described  the 
eloquence,  so  genial  in  its  opening,  endurable 
during  dinner  by  manducative  and  bibulous 
supports,  by  degrees  assuming  nightmare  pro- 
portions, tempered  only  with  faith  in  inevitable 
bedtime.  That  arrived,  the  good- nights  were 
spoken,  the  staircase  reached  ;  and  then,  stimulated 
by  a  fresh  cestrus,  the  host  began  again,  and  the 
evening  closed  with  a  long  supplementary  harangue 
in  the  hall  by  the  light  of  the  bedroom  candlesticks. 
This  habit  made  him  in  society  the  terror  of 
raconteurs,  demanding  as  they  do  attentive  auditors 
with  interlocution  just  enough  to  start  successive 
topics  and  give  fresh  chances  to  their  wit.  I  recall 
meeting  at  his  table  Mr.  Massey,  M.P.  for  Tiverton, 
one  of  the  brilliant  London  talkers  of  the  day,  a 
member,  with  Kinglake,  Count  Stzrelecki,  American 
Ticknor,  and  others,  of  the  famous  Athenaeum 
"  corner."  He  led  off  at  the  opening  of  dinner 
with  a  delicious  anecdote  of  the  well-known  Mrs. 
Thistlethwayte  ;  but  his  incidental  mention  of  a 
certain  other  lady  inspired  Sir  Thomas  to  interrupt 
with  a  genealogical  disquisition  :  the  aroma  of  the 
story  exhaled,  and  the  narrator  looked  depressed. 
He  recovered  himself,  and  another  good  story  was 
begun  ;  but  when  a  second  time  Sir  Thomas  cut  in 
mat  apropos,  Mr.  Massey  collapsed,  and  we  heard  no 
more  of  him.  And  so  in  this  and  other  ways  it 
came  to  pass  that  with  all  his  great  attainments  he 
was  not  a  man  with  whom  you  ever  felt  at  ease. 
That  he  would  be  polite  and  kind  you  knew  ;  knew, 
too,  that  until  submerged  by  vocables,  as  Carlyle 


said  of  Coleridge,  you  would  gain  abiding  know- 
ledge from  his  boundless  stores ;  yet  everywhere 
in  his  talk  and  temperament  lurked  sharp  points 
on  which  you  feared  to  tread — the  conversational 
smoothness  was  suppositus  cineri  doloso.  It  used  to 
be  said  that  God  made  men,  women,  and  Aclands, 
(it  was  said,  I  think,  originally  of  the  Herveys),  and 
he  lent  full  flavour  to  the  epigram.  He  gave  one 
always  the  idea  of  a  superlatively  good  thing  un- 
kindly impaired  by  Fate.  To  his  birth  thronged  the 
fairy  god-mother  with  gifts  of  intellect,  fluency, 
loftiness  of  standard,  philanthropy  of  aim,  gene- 
rosity of  nature  ;  then  came  the  malignant  Un- 
invited, with  the  marring  supplement  of  position, 
fortune,  ease,  to  annul  the  bracing,  shaping  discipline 
which  moulds  the  self-made  man.  Covered  with 
University  distinctions,  Fellow  of  All  Souls,  rich  in 
Parliamentary  promise,  protagonist  in  a  great  social 
and  religious  movement — all  older  men  looked  on 
at  him  expectantly  with  a  Ce  gar$on  ira  loin.  But 
inherited  wealth  absolved  him  from  compulsory 
struggle,  rank  and  repute  secured  him  unearned 
deference — he  was  admirable,  useful,  honoured, 
loved ;  but  he  disproved  the  augury  of  greatness, 
he  failed  to  realise  the  promise  heralded  by  his 
splendid  youth. 

Faster  than  Homer's  leaves  the  Undergraduate 
generations  pass.  Three  years,  or  four  at  most, 
push  them  from  their  stools,  and  a  fresh  succession 
enters  on  the  stage.  In  1833  the  "  Uniomachia," 
Battle  of  the  Union,  embalms  another  scarcely 
less  remarkable  relay. 


I  well  knew  Tom  Brancker,  who  was  believed 
to  be  dux  factij  originator  of  the  social  war. 
Coming  from  Shrewsbury  in  jacket  and  turn- 
down collars,  he  had,  while  still  a  schoolboy, 
though  matriculated,  beaten  Gladstone  and  Scott 
for  the  Ireland.  Butler  had  sent  him  up  by  Scott's 
advice,  for  the  sake  of  practice  merely,  but  he 
came  out  scholar,  surpassing  his  two  great  com- 
petitors, as  Vowler  Short  told  them,  in  the  points 
of  taste  and  terseness.  He  failed  afterwards  to 
get  his  First,  but  became  Fellow  of  Wadham,  and 
dropped  finally  into  the  lotos-eating  of  a  College 
incumbency.  He  was  hated  and  dreaded  as  a  bully 
in  the  Schools,  but  I  always  found  him  kind  and 
friendly.  It  was  usual,  as  matter  of  course  and 
compliment,  to  re-elect  each  year  the  committee 
of  the  Union  ;  but  just  then  was  the  time  of  the 
Reform  Bill,  the  outgoing  committee  was  Tory ; 
and  Brancker,  with  Bob  Lowe,  Massie,  and  other 
zealous  Whigs,  successfully  opposed  them,  and 
were  elected  in  their  place.  The  exiles  formed  an 
opposition  club  called  the  Rambler,  so  popular 
and  successful  that  the  new  committee  proposed 
to  expel  its  members  from  the  Union.  In  hope 
of  lulling  the  storm,  two  St.  Mary  Hall  men, 
Jackson  and  Sinclair,  produced  the  "  Uniomachia," 
a  mock  Homeric  poem  with  a  dog-Latin  Inter- 
pretatio  and  notes,  and,  in  a  second  edition,  with 
an  additional  "  Notularum  Spicilegium  "  by  Robert 
Scott,  afterwards  Master  of  Balliol.  There  followed 
an  English  translation  from  the  pen  of  Archdeacon 
Giles,  and  an  "Emollient  and  Sedative  Draught" 
by  Lenient  Lullaby,  F.R.S.,  whom  I  have  never 


been  able  to  identify.  The  characters,  besides 
the  three  innovators,  were  Cardwell,  W.  G.  Ward, 
Roundell  Palmer,  Mayow,  Tait,  Pattison,  and 
Charles  Marriott.  The  fun  fell  upon  the  combatants 
like  Virgil's  pulveris  exigui  jactus  on  the  bees,  and 
the  hatchet  was  buried  in  a  reconciliation  dinner 
at  the  Star.  Of  Marriott  I  shall  speak  later  on, 
as  also  of  Mark  Pattison,  who  in  these  years,  not 
yet  disappointed,  melancholy,  and  vindictive,  was 
struggling  with  undigested  reading,  half-awakened 
intelligence,  morbid  self-consciousness,  progressing 
towards  that  love  of  learning  for  learning's  sake 
which,  agnostic,  cynic,  pessimist  as  he  was,  gave 
unity  to  his  sad,  remonstrant  life. 

Contemporary  with  these  was  a  genius  perhaps 
more  remarkable,  certainly  more  unusual,  than 
any  of  them.  In  1833  Solomon  Caesar  Malan 
matriculated  at  St.  Edmund's  Hall,  a  young  man 
with  a  young  wife,  son  to  a  Swiss  Pastor,  speaking 
as  yet  broken  English,  but  fluent  Latin,  Romaic, 
French,  Spanish,  Italian,  German  ;  and  a  proficient 
at  twenty-two  years  old  in  Hebrew,  Arabic,  San- 
skrit. He  won  the  Boden  and  the  Kennicott 
Scholarships,  took  a  Second  Class,  missing  his 
First  through  the  imperfection  of  his  English,  was 
ordained,  became  Professor  in  Calcutta,  gathered 
up  Chinese,  Japanese,  the  various  Indian,  Malay, 
Persian  tongues,  came  home  to  the  valuable  living 
of  Broadwinsor,  where  he  lived,  when  not  travelling, 
through  forty  years,  amassing  a  library  in  more 
than  seventy  languages,  the  majority  of  which  he 
spoke  with  freedom,  read  familiarly,  wrote  with 
a  clearness  and  beauty  rivalling  the  best  native 


caligraphy.  In  his  frequent  Eastern  rambles  he 
was  able,  say  his  fellow-travellers,  to  chat  in 
market  and  bazaar  with  every  one  whom  he  met. 
On  a  visit  to  the  Bishop  of  Innereth  he  preached  a 
Georgian  sermon  in  the  Cathedral.  He  published 
twenty  -  six  translations  of  English  theological 
works,  in  Chinese  and  Japanese,  Arabic  and 
Syriac,  Armenian,  Russian,  Ethiopic,  Coptic. 
Five-fold  outnumbering  the  fecundity  of  his  royal 
namesake,  he  left  behind  him  a  collection  of 
16,000  Proverbs,  taken  from  original  Oriental  texts, 
each  written  in  its  native  character  and  translated. 
So  unique  was  the  variety  of  his  Pentecostal  attain- 
ments that  experts  could  not  be  found  even  to 
catalogue  the  four  thousand  books  which  he  pre- 
sented, multa  gemens,  with  pathetic  lamentation 
over  their  surrender,  to  the  Indian  Institute  at 

I  encountered  him  at  three  periods  of  his  life. 
First  as  a  young  man  at  the  evening  parties  of 
John  Hill,  Vice-Principal  of  St.  Edmund's  Hall, 
where  prevailed  tea  and  coffee,  pietistic  Low 
Church  talk,  prayer  and  hymnody  of  portentous 
length,  yet  palliated  by  the  chance  of  sharing  Bible 
or  hymn-book  with  one  of  the  host's  four  charming 
daughters.  Twenty  years  later  I  recall  him  as  a 
guest  in  Oxford  Common  Rooms,  laying  down  the 
law  on  questions  of  Scriptural  interpretation,  his 
abysmal  fund  of  learning  and  his  dogmatic  insist- 
ency floated  by  the  rollicking  fun  of  his  illustrations 
and  their  delightful  touches  of  travelled  personal 
experience.  Finally,  in  his  old  age  I  spent  a  long 
summer  day  with  him  in  the  Broadwinsor  home, 


enjoying  his  library,  aviary,  workshop,  drawings ; 
his  hospitality  stimulated  by  the  discovery  that  in 
some  of  his  favourite  pursuits  I  was,  longo  intervallo, 
an  enthusiast  like  himself.  He  was  a  benevolently 
autocratic  vicar,  controlling  his  parish  with  patri- 
archally  imperious  rule,  original,  racy,  trenchant, 
in  Sunday  School  and  sermons.  It  was  his  wont 
to  take  into  the  pulpit  his  college  cap  :  into  it  he 
had  pasted  words  of  Scripture  which  he  always 
read  to  himself  before  preaching.  They  were 
taken  from  the  story  of  Balaam  :  "  And  the  Lord 

opened  the  mouth  of  the  ass,  and  she  said " 

He  died  at  eighty-two,  to  have  been  admitted,  let 
us  hope,  in  the  unknown  land  to  comradeship  of 
no  ordinary  brotherhood  by  spirits  of  every  nation, 
kindred,  tongue  ;  to  have  found  there,  ranged  upon 
celestial  shelves,  the  Platonic  archetypes  of  the 
priceless  books  which  it  tore  his  mortal  heart  to 

Skip  two  or  three  more  years,  and  we  come  to  a 
scarcely  less  interesting  student  stratum,  to  the 
period  of  Stanley,  Matthew  Arnold,  Clough.  Think 
of  them  walking  among  the  Cumnor  cowslips  and 
the  fritillaries  of  the  Eynsham  river  side,  bathing  in 
the  abandoned  lasher,  noting  from  Hinksey  Hill  on 
winter  afternoons  the  far-off  light  of  the  windows 
in  Christchurch  Hall,  mounting  to  the  Glanvil  elm, 
which  yet  stands  out  clear  against  the  flaming  sun- 
set sky.  Imagine  the  talk,  now  glad,  now  pensive, 
of  their  still  illusioned  youth ;  its  poetry,  specu- 
lation, criticism,  Wordsworthian  insight  into  nature, 
valiant  optimism,  rare  communion  of  highest  and 



most  sacred  thoughts; — as  one  reads  "Thyrsis" 
and  "The  Scholar  Gypsy,"  airs  from  Paradise  seem 
to  breathe  around  one,  airs  which  only  Oxford 
could  have  inspired,  only  high  natures  such  as 
theirs  could  have  exhaled.  I  heard  Stanley  recite 
his  " Gypsies"  in  the  Theatre  in  1837  >  *ne  scene 
comes  back  to  me  as  of  yesterday — the  crowded 
area,  the  ladies  in  their  enormous  bonnets ;  hand- 
some, stately  Dr.  Gilbert  in  the  Vice-Chancellor's 
chair ;  the  pale,  slight,  weak-voiced,  boyish  figure 
in  the  rostrum ;  the  roar  of  cheers  which  greeted 
him.  Clough,  too,  I  knew ;  read  with  him  for  half 
a  year  in  his  tiny  Holywell  lodging  immediately 
after  his  election  to  Oriel,  working  the  first  hour  in 
the  morning,  while  he  ate  his  frugal  breakfast  of 
dry  bread  and  chocolate.  It  was  his  happy  time, 
before  his  piping  took  a  troubled  sound ;  his  six 
golden  Oxford  graduate  years  of  plain  living  and 
high  thinking,  of  hopeful  fight  for  freedom,  of  the 
rapturous  Long  Vacations  in  Wales,  the  Highlands, 
the  English  Lakes,  summed  up  immortally  in  his 
"Bothie."  The  original  edition  in  its  blue  cloth 
lies  before  me  as  I  write,  a  present  from  his  son.  I 
have  noted  in  it  the  undergraduates  represented,  so 
far  as  they  are  now  recoverable.1  Side  by  side 
with  these  men  were  Donkin,  Lord  Hobhouse, 
Brodie,  Henry  Acland,  young  gentleman-commoner 
Ruskin  ;  little,  white-haired,  cherub-faced  Jowett ; 
James  Riddell,  whose  <£0*W>,  fydivay,  <j)i\ta-Trj,  Moberly 
used  to  quote  as  the  unsurpassable  gem  of  all  the 
Anthologies  ;  and,  perhaps  a  year  or  two  earlier, 
"Jem  "  Lonsdale,  great  in  estimation  rather  that  in 
1  Appendix  F, 


production  as  a  scholar,  the  tales  of  his  wit  and 
genius  ephemeral  and  for  the  most  part  lost.  Let 
me  give  one  specimen.  Asked  to  preach  at  Eton 
by  his  old  tutor,  Bishop  Chapman,  he  sent  this 
answer : — 

"  Cur  imparem  me  cingis  honoribus, 
Me,  triste  lignum,  me  vetulum,  pigro 
Sermone,  fundentemque  tardo 
Ore  soporiferum  papaver  ?  " 

Henry  Furneaux,  who  was  his  colleague  in  the 
Moderation  Schools,  used  to  speak  of  him  as  the 
most  winning  of  men  from  his  extreme  simplicity 
and  absence  of  all  self-consciousness ;  his  scholar- 
ship not  so  much  an  acquirement  as  an  intuition, 
inherited  probably  from  his  father.  It  was  amongst 
the  answers  to  a  Paper  set  by  him  that  occurred  the 
delicious  explanation  of  the  Lupercalia,  "  Lupercalia 
is  the  name  of  a  she-wolf  that  suckled  Romeo  and 
Juliet."  Riddell's  quiet  manner  concealed  a  turn 
for  comedy.  I  once  saw  him  in  a  charade  act  with 
much  humour  the  Parliamentary  Candidate  in  the 
gentlemanly  interest,  opposing  Henry  Wall,  who 
was  the  demagogue.  And  one  day  at  Zermatt,  the 
party  being  bored  by  a  cockney  who  was  destitute 
of  Miss  Catherine  Fanshawe's  letter,  and  was  afraid 
of  losing  his  'at  on  the  mountain,  Riddell  wrote  in 
the  hotel  book  : — 

"  A  gent  who  was  late  at  Zermatt, 
Dropped  an  H  on  the  Hoch  Taligat ; 
If  he'll  fetch  it  away 
He'll  find  it  some  day 
Of  use  in  the  front  of  his  'at." 

He  was  thus  embalmed  by  a  contemporary  poet. 


"  The  other,  of  an  ancient  name,  erst  dear 

To  Border  hills,  though  thence  too  long  exiled  ; 

In  lore  of  Hellas  scholar  without  peer, 

Reared  in  grey  halls  on  banks  of  Severn  piled. 

Reserved  he  was,  of  few  words  and  slow  speech ; 
Yet  dwelt  strange  power  that  beyond  words  could  reach 
In  that  sweet  face  by  no  rude  thought  defiled." 

The  Forties  were  years  of  strife  ;  of  Ward's  ex- 
pulsion, Newman's  perversion,  Hampden's  chal- 
lenged bishopric ;  a  time  none  the  less  of  great 
youthful  names.  Thorold  Rogers  I  knew  slightly 
as  an  undergraduate.  He  was  then  a  loud,  domi- 
nating, rapid  talker,  deluging  his  company  with  a 
shower-bath  of  Greek  choruses,  not  more  regardful 
of  the  skins  into  which  he  poured  the  wine  of  his 
erudition  than  was  Tom  Jones  when  in  company 
with  Ensigns  Northerton  and  Adderley.  He  so 
frightened  men,  in  fact,  that  he  could  find  no 
College  to  take  him  as  a  Fellow.  Altered  and 
saddened  by  his  young  wife's  death,  he  plunged 
into  politics  as  a  relief,  obtained  the  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment which  enabled  him  to  resign  his  Orders,  and 
sat  in  the  House  of  Commons  till  not  long  before 
his  death,  valued  there  as  a  walking  dictionary, 
and  always  the  centre  of  a  laughing  group  in  the 
smoking-room  or  on  the  Terrace.  From  this  time 
I  knew  him  closely;  we  stood  together  on  many 
political  platforms,  and  I  pleased  him  by  an  appre- 
ciative review  in  The  Spectator  of  his  book  on 
Holland,  which  had  been  coarsely  attacked,  as  I 
thought,  in  The  Pall  Mall.  He  was  an  unequalled 
story-teller ;  some  men  affect  nonchalance  in  re- 
peating a  good  thing,  but  Rogers's  face  used  to 
flash  and  his  eyes  start  out  with  contagious  joy  in  a 



clever  saying.  That  football  is  the  accomplishment 
of  a  hippopotamus,  that  the  Athanasian  Creed  was 
an  election  squib  —  a  saying  Rogeresque  but  justi- 
fied, as  readers  of  Foulkes's  investigation  are 
aware  —  and  his  happy  comparison  of  a  serious, 
hairy-faced  Birmingham  M.P.  to  a  costive  terrier, 
are  amongst  his  countless  epigrams  which  occur  to 
me.  His  was  the  pun  which  disqualified  Mundella 
of  the  big  nose,  6  peyaXoppwos,  as  Chairman  of 
Committees,  because  "when  Mr.  Mundella  was  in 
the  Chair  the  Noes  would  always  have  it."  Some 
prolix  creature  had  told  one  day  in  the  House 
the  ancient  story  of  a  miser  swallowing  a  guinea, 
from  whose  niggard  interior  an  emetic  persuaded 
him  to  refund  only  ten  and  sixpence.  Rogers 
seized  a  pencil,  scribbled  and  handed  round  the 
following  :  — 

X#€§  VO/UK&S  S€KJ  diroKpiJ^uv  Kar^^po^dic 

KCU  /3w$€ts  Odvarov  IIpo/cXcs  e'Seicre  fiopov. 
vvv  &€  /xoyis  T*Xvi?  napaKeAaov  BrjOcv  iarpov 

rdv  Se  rpiutv  ptpiStov  y\L<T\p(i)<s  ctTrevoax^icrc  8iir\fjv 
dvOpwTTov  yacTTrjp,  TTJV  8e  /career  x'  IBiav. 

Translated  in  the  manner  of  Swift  :  — 

"  Attorney  Proclus,  so  they  say, 

Swallowed  ten  drachmas  'tother  day. 
He  choked,  he  gasped  ;  to  ease  his  ill 

Came  Paracelse  with  purge  and  pill. 
Seven  coins  the  emetic  spew  obeyed — 

Cries  Proclus,  '  Curse  your  plundering  trade  ! 
Of  my  loved  store  three-fourths  are  gone  ; 

So  help  you  Plutus,  leave  me  one  !'" 


When  news  came  down  to  the  Lobby  of  Lord 
Derby's  death,  he  wrote  : — 

"  Reckless  in  speech,  and  truculent  in  face, 

Geoffrey,  the  fourteenth  Earl  of  Derby,  died  : 
Only  in  this  superior  to  his  race, 

He  left  the  winning  for  the  losing  side." 

He  used  to  quote,  as  the  cleverest  retort  ever  made, 
the  answer  of  a  notorious  admiral  to  the  Duke  of 
Clarence  :  "  I  hear,  sir,  that  you  are  the  biggest 
blackguard  in  Portsmouth  !  "  "  I  hope  your  Royal 
Highness  has  riot  come  down  to  take  away  my 
character  ! "  I  met  him  one  day  laughing  along 
Beaumont  Street ;  he  had  just  overheard  a  scout 
talking  to  a  waiter  at  the  door  of  the  Randolph  : 
"  So  he  says  to  me,  his  lordship  says,  'You  don't 
seem  to  think  much  of  them  bishops.'  'No,  my 
lord,  I  don't,'  says  I ;  '  I  remember  them  all  coming 
up  here  with  pockmantles  not  worth  five  shillings, 
and  now  they're  as  fat  as  Moses's  kine.'  "  Beneath 
his  coarseness  and  profanity  lay  not  only  political 
morality  and  ardent  patriotism  but  active  kindness 
of  heart.  A  clever  girl  at  Somerville  had  exhausted 
her  funds  after  two  years'  residence  and  was  about 
to  leave.  Rogers  heard  of  it,  told  the  circum- 
stances about  the  House  in  his  forcible  way  till  he 
had  collected  ^80,  which  he  sent  to  the  young 
lady,  who  is  now  a  successful  and  distinguished 
professor.  Of  his  bons  mots  the  majority,  perhaps, 
will  not  bear  repetition  ;  there  was  truth  as  well  as 
pungency  in  the  saying  which  explained  his  writing 
a  book  on  Holland  by  the  fact  that  it  is  "a  low 
country  full  of  dams."  When  Freeman  came  up 
to  examine  in  the  newly-founded  History  school, 



he  and  Rogers,  an  equally  ursine  pair,  were  mali- 
ciously brought  together  at  a  dinner  party.  In 
compliment  to  Rogers  the  host  led  the  talk  to 
political  economy.  "  Political  economy,"  said 
Freeman,  "  seems  to  me  to  be  so  much  garbage." 
"  Garbage  is  it  ?  "  said  Rogers ;  "  the  very  thing 
then  for  a  hog  like  you."  Readers  of  Walter 
Scott's  note  in  Boswell  (vol.  v.  p.  114)  will  recall 
the  meeting  between  Adam  Smith  and  Dr.  Johnson. 


"  Prceteritos  extollens,  Recentiorum  incuriosus" 


Goldwin  Smith—John  Conington — Hayman  and  Rugby  and  More- 
decay — Frank  Buckland — J.  G.  Wood — His  Many-sidedness — 
The  "Common  Object" — Blaydes  of  Oxford  and  Calverley  of 
Cambridge— R.  E.  Bartlett — The  Schoolboy  and  the  Queen — 
Walter  Wren — The  Great  Henley  Race  of  1843  :  "Sept em  contra 
Camum  "—George  Cox— "  Black  Gowns  and  Red  Coats  "—The 
Early  Fifties— Harry  Wilkins — Herbert  Coleridge — His  Mother, 
Sara  Coleridge — Dress  at  Oxford  Fifty  Years  Ago  and  Now — 
Unathletic  Oxford — The  Supremacy  of  the  Spirit. 

GOLDWIN  SMITH — "vastiest  Goldwin/'  Rolleston 
always  called  him — towered  above  his  fellows  as 
undergraduate  and  bachelor.  We  all  saw  in  him 
the  coming  man ;  but  he  married,  settled  in 
America,  and  never  came.  Close  to  him  was  John 
Conington,  whose  extraordinary  visage,  with  its 
green-cheese  hue,  gleaming  spectacles,  quivering 
protrusive  lips,  might  be  encountered  every  day 
at  2  o'clock  on  his  way  to  a  constitutional,  which 
he  would  have  liked,  he  said,  to  conduct  between 
two  high  walls,  shutting  out  all  irrelevant  topics 
such  as  surroundings  and  scenery  might  suggest. 
He  ranked  in  Oxford  as  a  scholar  of  the  very  highest 
character  and  industry,  attested  by  his  fine  trans- 
lations of  Horace  and  of  Virgil.  He  was  a  lonely, 


melancholy  man,  out  of  harmony  with  the  young 
athletes  who  were  his  pupils  ;  prevented  from 
voluntary  advances  to  them  by  his  own  insuperable 
shyness  ;  but  eagerly  making  friends  with  any  who 
would  seek  his  confidence,  and  sparing  no  pains 
with  promising  students.  He  was  passionately 
fond  of  the  best  English  poets,  by  whom  he  illus- 
trated his  classical  teaching.  His  pupils  learned 
from  him  what  University  teaching  should  have 
been,  learned  too  how  its  realisation  was  made 
impossible  by  the  imperfection  of  previous  public 
school  training.  From  an  esprit  and  a  Liberal  he 
suddenly  became  Conservative  and  Puseyite  ;  died 
early,  leaving  a  profuse  diary  of  his  Oxford  life, 
which  his  executors  unfortunately  thought  it  their 
duty  to  destroy.  In  the  same  class  list  with 
Goldwin  Smith  and  Freeman,  a  Second  where 
they  were  Firsts,  stood  the  name  of  Hayman,  the 
unfortunate  ad  interim  Headmaster  of  Rugby.  I 
first  met  him  in  our  younger  days  on  the  top  of 
a  Devonshire  coach.  I  was  quoting  Pope's 
"  Character  of  Narcissa,"  and  hesitated  for  a 
word,  which  a  voice  behind  me  supplied,  and  its 
owner  joined  in  our  talk  with  spirit.  He  was  a 
pleasant  fellow  and  a  good  scholar,  though  what 
the  waiter  in  the  "  Newcomes "  would  call  a 
11  harbitrary  gent " ;  but  his  election  to  Rugby 
was  unfortunate  for  everybody.  Only  a  Hercules 
could  have  succeeded  an  Atlas  such  as  Temple  ; 
and  Hayman's  inferiority  in  generalship,  teaching, 
preaching,  capacity  for  work,  at  once  armed 
against  him  boys  and  masters.  His  forlorn  posi- 
tion won  him  public  sympathy,  but  the  numbers 


fell ;    it  became  clear  even  to  the  Philistines  who 
had  appointed  him  that  he  must  go  : — 

"  When  Rugby,  spite  of  priest  or  layman, 

Began  to  fall  away, 
The  Governors  suspended  Hayman 
For  fear  of  More-decay." 

The  next  year  brings  us  to  Frank  Buckland. 
Few  men  can  now  recall  those  unique  breakfasts 
at  Frank's  rooms  in  the  corner  of  Fell's  Buildings  ; 
the  host,  in  blue  pea-jacket  and  German  student's 
cap,  blowing  blasts  out  of  a  tremendous  wooden 
horn  ;  the  various  pets  who  made  it  difficult  to 
speak  or  move ;  the  marmots,  and  the  dove,  and 
the  monkey,  and  the  chameleon,  and  the  snakes, 
and  the  guinea-pigs ;  the  after-breakfast  visits  to 
the  eagle,  or  the  jackal,  or  the  pariah  dog,  or 
Tiglath-pileser  the  bear,  in  the  little  yard  outside, 
"  Why  Tiglath-pileser  ? "  several  inquiring  corre- 
spondents asked  me  ;  "  why  give  unexplained  these 
cryptic  names  and  jokes  of  long  ago  ? "  Thus 
it  was.  On  a  certain  morning  in  May  the  bear 
escaped  from  Buckland's  yard,  and  found  his  way 
into  the  chapel,  at  the  moment  when  a  student  was 
reading  the  first  Lesson,  2  Kings  xvi.,  and  had 
reached  the  point  at  which  King  Ahaz  was  on  his 
way  to  meet  Tiglath-pileser,  King  of  Assyria,  at 
Damascus.  So  far  as  that  congregation  was  con- 
cerned, the  meeting  never  came  off ;  the  bear  made 
straight  for  the  Lectern,  its  occupant  fled  to  his 
place,  and  the  half-uttered  name  on  his  lips  was 
transferred  to  the  intruder.  Gaisford  sent  for 
Frank  :  "  You  or  that  animal,  Mr.  Buckland,  must 
quit  the  College."  The  undergraduate  was  father 


of  the  man.  His  house  in  Albany  Street  became 
one  of  the  sights  of  London ;  but  to  enter  it  pre- 
supposed iron  nerves  and  dura  ilia.  Introduced 
to  some  five-and-twenty  poor  relations,  free  from 
shyness,  deeply  interested  in  your  dress  and  person, 
you  felt  as  if  another  flood  were  toward,  and  the 
animals  parading  for  admission  to  the  Ark.  You 
remained  to  dine  :  but,  as  in  his  father's  house 
so  in  his  own,  the  genius  of  experiment,  supreme 
in  all  departments,  was  nowhere  so  active  as  at  the 
dinner  table.  Panther  chops,  rhinoceros  pie,  bison 
steaks,  kangaroo  ham,  horse's  tongue,  elephant's 
trunk,  are  recorded  among  his  manifestations  of 
hospitality ;  his  brother-in-law  quotes  from  the 
diary  of  a  departing  guest — " Tripe  for  dinner; 
don't  like  crocodile  for  breakfast." 

Of  the  same  standing — acquaintances  I  think 
they  were  not — was  ].  G.  Wood,  the  well-known 
lecturing  naturalist.  He  was  a  Bible  clerk  of 
Merton,  of  the  class  typified  in  Tom  Brown's 
"  Hardy,"  one  of  two  pariahs  compelled  by  chill 
penury  to  accept  the  coarse  munificence  of  the 
College,  who  pricked  Chapel  attendance  and  said 
grace,  knowing  no  one,  living  alone,  dining  in  Hall 
alone  on  the  remnants  sent  from  the  high  table.  I 
used  to  go  with  him  down  the  river  in  the  Long 
Vacation,  with  gun,  fishing  rod,  collecting  net.  He 
was  a  redoubtable  athlete,  champion  of  the  St.  Cle- 
ment's gymnasium  ;  for  Maclaren's  rooms  were  not 
then  built,  though  he  had  come  lately  to  Oxford, 
succeeding  little  Angelo,  who  taught  fencing  to  the 
previous  generation.  Wood  was  skilled  and  im- 
perturbable at  singlestick,  and  a  first-rate  boxer.  I 


saw  him  once  put  on  the  gloves  with  Maclaren 
at  Parson's  Pleasure  when  both  were  stripped 
for  a  bathe,  hitting  Mac  in  the  face  during  the 
first  round,  and  receiving  the  good-natured  pro- 
fessional's warm  congratulations.  Large  -  boned 
and  muscular,  he  had  a  small,  facile,  lady -like 
hand  ;  was  a  dexterous  anatomist ;  many  of  his  dis- 
sections being  still  in  the  Museum ;  mounted  skil- 
fully for  the  microscope,  manufactured  for  himself 
electrical  and  optical  apparatus,  took  calotypes,  as 
photographs  were  called  before  the  collodion  pro- 
cess was  invented,  drew  spirited  caricatures.  He 
was  not  then,  if  ever,  a  scientific  naturalist ;  he 
picked  up  knowledge  as  he  went  on,  and  cleverly 
made  the  most  of  it ;  and  his  authorship  was  due 
to  accident.  He  was  intimate  with  Buckley,  a 
Christchurch  chaplain,  who  did  cribs  for  Rout- 
ledge  ;  the  publisher  asked  him  to  recommend  a 
man  who  could  produce  for  moderate  payment  a 
popular  work  on  Natural  History,  and  Buckley 
named  Wood.  He  accepted,  and  came  to  me 
for  suggestions,  which  I  gave  rather  inventively. 
The  bull  terrier  "Crab"  who  figures  in  his  first 
book  was  mine  ;  some  of  that  quadruped's  recorded 
feats,  with  other  surprising  incidents,  one  in  par- 
ticular of  a  pointer  standing  at  a  pig,  were,  I  fear, 
not  founded  on  fact.  But  the  little  book  had  a 
great  sale,  was  followed  by  "Common  Objects  of 
the  Country,"  and  led  to  a  long  series  of  more 
pretentious  works.  Wood  was  ordained  to  the 
curacy  of  St.  Thomas,  then,  under  "  Tom  "  Cham- 
berlain, of  Christchurch,  the  most  ritualistic  of 
Oxford  temples ;  in  doubt  to  the  last  moment 



whether  he  was  to  serve  under  Chamberlain  or 
under  a  Low  Church  friend  of  Ben  Symons,  he  bid 
the  tailor  leave  his  clerical  waistcoat  uncompleted, 
that  it  might  be  open  or  M.B.  according  to  his 
rector's  tenets.  He  made  no  mark  as  a  clergyman, 
his  vocation  lay  in  writing  and  in  lecturing.  Plain 
in  features  and  rough  in  dress — men  called  him  the 
" Common  Object" — and  with  a  somewhat  indis- 
tinct voice,  he  was  yet  on  the  platform  extraor- 
dinarily popular,  fascinating,  by  his  anecdotic  itch, 
as  Peter  Pindar  calls  it,  and  his  skill  in  blackboard 
drawing,  not  certainly  scientific  or  highly  cultivated 
hearers,  but  the  half-educated  intelligence  of  a 
middle-class  or  schoolboy  audience.  He  died  sud- 
denly while  at  work,  struck  down  on  a  lecturing 

1  pass  to  a  very  different  man,  who  came  up  to 
Oxford  as  Blaydes  in  1847,  and  left  it  in  1849  to 
be  better  known  as  Calverley  at  Cambridge  :  his 
encounters  with  the  little  "  Master,"  the  stone 
thrown  up  at  his  library  window,  the  "  Well, 
yellow-belly,  how's  Jinks  ? "  the  surmise  at  Col- 
lections that  it  might  perhaps  be  some  time  since 
the  Master  had  read  Longinus,  were  long  current 
in  Balliol.  When  one  of  his  escapades  made  it 
probable  that  the  authorities  would  invite  him 
to  adorn  with  his  liveliness  the  groves  of  some 
other  Academe,  R.  E.  Bartlett,  afterwards  Fellow 
of  Trinity,  wrote  : — 

"  Oh,  freshman,  redolent  of  weed, 
Oh,  scholar,  running  fast  to  seed, 
This  maxim  in  thy  meerschaum  put — 
The  sharpest  Blades  will  soonest  cut." 

He  answered:  — 

"  Your  verse  is  tolerable  ;  but 
My  case  you  understand  ill  ; 
For  though  the  Dons  want  Blades  to  cut, 
They  cannot  find  a  handle." 

Bartlett's,  too,  were  the  lines  on  Weatherby,  a  fast 
scholar  of  Balliol,  who  was  sent  down  for  being 
drunk  in  Quad,  and  prostrating  the  porter  who 
tried  to  get  him  to  bed  : — 

"  Why  was  his  term,  at  first  so  short, 

Cut  prematurely  shorter  ? 
The  reason  was,  he  floored  the  Port, 
And  then— he  floored  the  Porter." 

The  catastrophe  occurred  in  the  lt short"  three- 
week  summer  term,  which  gives  point  to  the 
opening  line.  Conversing  with  an  old  Harrovian 
the  other  day,  I  asked  what  sort  of  reputation 
Blaydes  left  behind  him  at  the  school.  Not,  it 
appeared,  for  wit  and  verse-writing,  but  as  the  only 
boy  who  ever  jumped  from  the  top  to  the  bottom 
of  the  old  school  steps.  So  Matthew  Arnold's  leap 
over  the  Wadham  railings  used  to  be  familiar  to 
many  who  had  never  read  his  books  ;  so  a  clever  boy 
named  Selwyn  earned  immortality  at  Winchester  by 
jumping  for  a  bet  over  "  Nevy's  hedge  "  into  the 
road  far  below.  He  broke  his  leg,  had  been 
thought  sure  of  the  Queen's  gold  medal  for  that 
year,  locked  from  ink  and  paper  lost  his  chance. 
The  young  Queen  heard  the  story  through  his 
cousin,  a  maid  of  honour,  and  sent  him  a  gold 
watch,  with  an  inscription  more  precious  than 
Wyon's  shop  full  of  medals. 

By  the  way,  what  becomes  of  old  school  and 


college  medals  ?  One  rarely  meets  with  them  in 
after  life.  A  greatly  beloved  London  preacher  sold 
all  his  the  other  day  that  he  might  subsidise  a 
deserving  institution ;  and  Macaulay  did  the  same 
through  want  of  money  for  himself  in  early 
struggling  days.  My  own,  gold  and  silver,  repose 
under  a  glass  case,  and  perhaps  those  who  survive 
me  may  value  them. 

Calverley  retained  his  saltatory  power  at  Cam- 
bridge. Professor  Allbutt  kindly  writes  to  me 
that  one  evening,  in  the  presence  of  himself, 
Walter  Besant,  and  Wormald,  then  stroke  of  the 
Christ's  boat,  he  suddenly  sprang  like  a  skipjack 
off  the  floor  of  the  Christ's  gatehouse  porch,  over 
the  bar  which  crossed  (and  still  crosses)  from 
the  wall  to  fasten  one  valve  of  the  gate,  alighting 
safely  in  the  triangular  space  within.  The  marvel 
was  not  so  much  the  height  (37-^-  inches)  as  the 
rise  without  a  run  and  clean  descent  into  the 
narrow  triangular  enclosure,  free  from  collision 
with  door  or  wall :  he  must  have  jumped  straight 
upwards,  clearing  his  feet  easily,  and  then  drop- 
ping vertically  downwards.  He  possessed  enor- 
mous thighs  and  large  gluteal  muscles,  enabling 
him  to  spring  like  a  grass-hopper.  The  Professor 
adds  that  Calverley  was  the  most  indolent  man 
of  parts  he  ever  knew;  his  reading  casual  and 
intermittent,  but  his  memory  prodigious,  with 
power  of  absorbing  from  a  book  as  though  by 
some  ethereal  process  the  matter  demanded  and 
assimilable  by  his  genius.  His  Cambridge  life 
has  lately  lost  an  honest  chronicler  in  his  great 
friend  Walter  Wren,  who  boasted  that  he  had 


answered  all  the  questions  in  the   Calverley  Pick- 
wick Paper  except  the  "red-faced  Nixon." 

More  than  once  I  have  sat  with  Wren  into  the 
small  hours,  listening  to  his  reminiscences  of  his 
friend's  lampoons,  epigrams,  miracles  of  scholar- 
ship and  wit.  Wren  had  often  pressed  him  for  a 
scholarly  tour  de  force ;  caught  him  one  wet  morn- 
ing in  his  room,  and  seized  his  chance.  The 
"Excursion"  lay  on  a  table;  Calverley  handed 
it  to  his  friend — "  Read  me  any  five-and-twenty 
lines."  Wren  did  so.  "Again,  more  slowly." 
Then  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  Calverley  sat  with 
his  head  in  his  hands.  "  Now  write " ;  and  he 
dictated  the  translation  in  fluent  Virgilian  hexa- 
meters. The  remaining  story  I  cite  with  special 
pleasure  as  revealing  a  very  noble  aspect  of  his 
many-faceted  character.  He  heard  from  a  pro- 
fligate acquaintance  of  a  country  girl,  turned  out 
of  home  by  her  parents  for  disobedience  in  some 
love  affair,  come  to  seek  service  at  Cambridge, 
not  yet  ruined,  but  in  a  house  where  ruin  was  in- 
evitable and  imminent.  He  was  reading  for  the 
Craven,  which  he  won ;  to  be  seen  by  tutor  or 
proctor  in  questionable  company  or  at  a  house 
of  ill-repute  would  mean  rustication  or  expulsion  ; 
but  he  went  to  the  place  at  once,  extricated  the 
girl,  took  her  with  him  to  the  station,  paid  her 
fare,  and  sent  her  home  with  an  earnestly  written 
letter  to  her  father  which  brought  about  a  recon- 
ciliation, and  saved  her.  Clever  as  Blaydes  in 
epigram  and  pun,  though  not  in  sustained  satire, 
was  Arthur  Ridding,  of  New  College,  elder  brother 
to  the  late  Bishop  of  Southwell.  When  every  one 


was  celebrating  in  Latin  verse  the  Duke  of  Well- 
ington's funeral  he  was  asked  how  to  render 
"  lying  in  state."  "Splendide  mendax,"  was  the 
answer.  At  Winchester  once  during  a  cricket 
match  we  passed  on  the  "Tunbridge"  towpath 
a  miserable  horse,  who  with  drooping  head,  glassy 
eyes,  protruding  bones,  was  dragging  a  heavy 
barge.  "Tb-7rd0-o<s"  (Tow-path- oss)  was  Ridding's 

I  must  not  leave  the  Forties  without  a  re- 
miniscence of  the  Henley  race,  the  "  Septem  contra 
Camum,"  in  1843.  It  was  the  event  which  really 
popularised  boating  at  Oxford  ;  the  College  races 
were  before  that  year  a  mere  pleasant  incident  in  a 
summer  term  ;  there  were  no  College  barges  on 
the  river ;  even  the  Oxford  and  Cambridge  race, 
except  in  1829,  the  first  race  rowed,  excited 
languid  interest.  I  stopped  on  Battersea  bridge 
one  day  in  1841  to  watch  the  Oxford  boat  practising 
against  a  Thames  crew  ;  there  was  hardly  any  one 
on  the  bank,  where  to-day  thousands  would  be 
running.  It  was,  I  think,  in  1842  that  a  new  oar, 
Fletcher  Menzies,  of  University,  arose,  under 
whose  training  the  Oxford  style  was  changed  and 
pace  improved,  with  prospect  of  beating  Cam- 
bridge, which  had  for  several  years  been  victor; 
and  the  '43  race  at  Henley  between  the  two  picked 
crews  of  Oxford  University  and  the  Cambridge 
Subscription  Rooms  was  anxiously  expected  as 
a  test.  A  few  hours  before  the  race  Menzies,  the 
stroke,  fell  ill,  and  the  "  Rooms  "  refused  to  allow  a 
substitute.  The  contest  seemed  at  an  end,  when 
some  one — Royds,  of  Brasenose,  it  was  said — 



proposed  that  the  Oxford  seven  should  pull  against 
the  Cambridge  eight.  The  audacious  gallantry  of 
the  idea  took  hold;  George  Hughes,  of  Oriel, 
brother  to  Tom  Hughes,  was  moved  from  seven  to 
stroke,  and  his  place  taken  by  the  bow,  Lowndes,  of 
Christchurch.1  So,  with  the  bow-oar  unmanned, 
the  race  began,  the  crew  hopeless  of  more  than 
a  creditable  defeat ;  but  as  their  boat  held  its  own, 
drew  up,  passed  ahead,  the  excitement  became 
tremendous ;  and  when  the  Oxford  flag  fluttered 
up,  the  men  on  the  bank,  as  the  guard  said  of  his 
leaders  in  "  Nicholas  Nickleby,"  went  mad  with 
glory ;  carried  the  rowers  to  the  Red  Lion,  wildly 
raced  the  street,  like  horses  on  the  Corso  in  a 
Roman  carnival,  tore  up  a  heavy  toll-bar  gate,  and 
flung  it  over  the  bridge  into  the  river.  The  boat 
was  moored  as  a  trophy  in  Christchurch  meadow  at 
the  point  where  Pactolus  poured  its  foul  stream 
into  the  Isis,  and  was  shown  for  twenty-four  years 
to  admiring  freshmen  ;  until  in  1867,  rotten  and  de- 
cayed, it  was  bought  by  jolly  Tom  Randall,  mercer, 
alderman,  scholar,  its  sound  parts  fashioned  into  a 
chair,  and  presented  as  the  President's  throne  to 
the  University  barge.  One  of  the  seven,  John  Cox, 
of  Trinity,  who  pulled  six,  died  quite  recently. 

His  elder  brother,  George  Cox,  of  New  College, 
an  extraordinarily  promising  man,  died  young.  Be- 
sides one  or  two  coarse,  clever,  very  popular  songs, 

1  I  give  the  names  of  the  seven  in  Appendix  C.  I  be- 
lieve that  two  of  them,  Royds  and  Bourne,  are  still  alive. 
R.  B.  Mansfield,  author  of  the  "Log  of  the  Water-lily,"  a 
brother  Wykehamist,  wrote  to  me  that  he  was  appointed  locum 
tenens  for  Royds,  who  was  unable  to  come  up  till  just  before 
the  race. 


such  as  the  "  Oxford  Freshman/'  and  "  A  Drop  of 
Good  Beer/'  he  left  behind  him  a  satire  of  unusual 
power,  called  "  Black  Gowns  and  Red  Coats,"  pub- 
lished in  1834.  It  is  now  very  scarce,  its  author  so 
forgotten  that  Mr.  Hirst  in  the  Cassell  "  Life  of 
Gladstone,"  quotes  him  as  George  Fox.  He  draws 
a  lurid  picture ;  proclaims  the  teaching  barren,  the 
teachers  sunk  in  crapulence  and  sloth,  the  taught 
licentious,  extravagant,  idle.  Of  tthe  Dons  only 
three  are  excepted  from  his  lash,  the  two  Duncans 
and  Macbride ;  of  recent  undergraduates  only 
one  : — 

"  Yet  on  one  form,  whose  ear  can  ne'er  refuse 
The  Muse's  tribute,  for  he  loved  the  Muse, 
Full  many  a  fond  expectant  eye  is  bent, 
Where  Newark's  towers  are  mirrored  in  the  Trent. 
Perchance  ere  long  to  shine  in  senates  first, 
His  manhood  echoing  what  his  youth  rehearsed, 
Soon  Gladstone's  brows  will  bloom  with  greener  bays, 
Than  twine  the  chaplet  of  a  minstrel's  lays, 
Nor  heed,  while  poring  o'er  each  graver  line, 
The  far  faint  music  of  a  lute  like  mine." 

There  are  passages  of  terrible  force,  as  in  the  por- 
trait of  the  profligate  freshman  ;  memorable  photo- 
graphs of  contemporary  follies,  as  in  the  fast 
exquisite's  career ;  echoes  of  conservative  alarm  at 
the  muttering  thunder  of  reform  ;  momentary  lapses 
into  prize  poem  jingle,  redeemed  by  abundant 
resonant  epigram  ;  one  special  episode,  "  A  Simple 
Tale  of  Seduction,"  rising  very  nearly  to  the  highest 
strain  of  poetry.  Was  it  a  faithful  portrait?  No 
more  than  was  the  "  Oxford  Spy,"  whose  author, 
Shergold  Boone,  lived  to  express  his  deep  regret  for 
having  written  it  in  a  curious  penitential  Univer- 


sity  sermon.  It  generalised  from  a  single  and  a 
limited  side  of  Oxford  life,  as  it  was  said  of  Simeon 
Stylites  that  he  discerned  the  hog  in  Nature  and 
mistook  Nature  for  the  hog.  Amongst  the  Heads 
whom  Cox  indiscriminately  chastises  were  Routh, 
Gaisford,  Cramer,  Jenkyns,  Ingram,  Hawkins, 
Hampden ;  his  "untutored  Tutors"  with  their 
bloated  pedantry  and  screechowl  throats  numbered 
in  their  ranks  such  men  as  Hussey,  Newman,  the 
two  Fabers,  Robert  Wilberf orce,  Vowler  Short,  and 
Hurrell  Froude ;  his  one  blameless  junior  was  but 
a  notable  comrade  in  the  splendid  youthful  band 
sampled,  and  sampled  merely,  in  my  last  chapter. 
We  must  bemoan  the  untimely  loss  of  genius  so 
prodigal  in  its  shortened  promise ;  but,  remember- 
ing his  own  admission  that  the  fingers  were  not 
always  clean  which  held  the  pen,  we  discount  the 
Censor's  satire  with  the  banished  Duke's  reply  to 
sneering  Jaques  : — 

"  For  thou  thyself  hast  been  a  libertine  ; 
All  the  embossed  sores  and  headed  evils 
That  thou  with  license  of  free  foot  hast  caught, 
Wouldst  thou  disgorge  into  the  general  world." 

My  undergraduate  reminiscences  must  stop  short 
with  the  early  Fifties,  at  the  line  of  cleavage  between 
the  Old  and  New  Oxford  Comedy.  They  include 
mad  Harry  Wilkins  of  Merton,  manumitter  of 
Daubeny's  apes,  who  once,  an  M.A.  and  Fellow 
of  his  College,  in  broad  daylight  and  full  term,  led 
a  mob  of  rowdy  Christchurch  undergraduates  in  a 
duck  hunt  at  the  Long  Bridges.  He  came  up  from 
Harrow  in  1840  with  a  Gregory  Exhibition  and 
high  scholarly  repute,  but  with  incipient  deafness, 


which  increased  as  years  went  on.  I  remember  his 
examination  in  the  Schools,  his  inability  to  hear 
questions,  his  cataclysmal  answers  when  they 
reached  him.  Probably  his  deafness  was  calcu- 
lated ;  Liddell,  one  of  the  examiners,  remarked  that 
the  way  to  make  Mr.  Wilkins  hear  was  to  question 
him  on  subjects  which  he  knew ;  but  there  was  no 
doubt  about  his  First  Class.  He  was  an  eloquent 
talker,  used  to  sit  kicking  his  legs  on  a  table,  pour- 
ing out  to  a  crowd  of  listeners  classically  poised 
sentences  like  extracts  from  a  review.  His  life's 
occupation  was  writing  school-books,  by  which  he 
made  large  sums ;  his  unrealised  ambition  was  to 
become  a  nobleman's  chaplain,  as  the  next  best 
thing  to  being  a  nobleman  :  "  My  dear  fellow, 
think  what  it  would  be  to  be  a  Marquis — a  Marquis  ! 
my  dear  fellow."  He  was  a  bon  vivant,  declined 
into  a  fat  Phaeacian,  abrogated  his  Orders,  and 
latterly  did  nothing. 

A  very  different  man  was  Herbert  Coleridge, 
whose  Double  First  in  1852  marked  the  close  of 
the  old  system,  as  Sir  Robert  Peel's  in  1808  shed 
lustre  on  its  commencement.  The  most  successful 
Etonian  of  his  day,  Newcastle  Scholar,  and  win- 
ning the  Balliol  while  still  in  the  Sixth  Form,  he  was 
unappreciated  in  a  school  where  athletic  eminence 
was  the  sole  title  to  distinction  ;  at  Oxford  he  found 
and  enjoyed  a  higher,  more  congenial  level.  His 
richly  endowed  and  beautiful  mother,  Sara  Coleridge, 
"last  of  the  three,  though  eldest  born"  in  Words- 
worth's Triad,  theologian,  scholar,  poetess,  her 
father's  spiritual  child  in  philosophy,  learning,  genius, 
yet  feminine  in  grace  and  sweetness,  in  domestic 


tenderness  and  self-sacrifice,  died  just  before  his  Class 
was  known.  She  had  read  with  him,  his  Greek  books 
especially,  throughout  his  school  and  college  career. 
He  used  to  acknowledge,  it  was  said,  that,  while  he 
beat  her  latterly  in  trained  scholarship,  she  was 
always  his  superior  in  vigour  of  phrasing  and  in 
delicate  verbal  felicities.  He  was  fond  of  talking 
about  "my  famous  grandfather,"  insomuch  that 
he  gained  the  nickname  of  ov/c  aTrainros.  He  never 
took  his  degree  :  by  an  absurd  rule  then  prevalent 
— now,  I  am  told,  extinct — men  taking  the  B.A. 
with  ^300  a  year  of  their  own,  ranked  as  "  Grand 
Compounders,"  and,  bedizened  in  scarlet  gowns- 
Cox's  tulips  they  were  called — paid  ^100  in  fees 
to  old  Valentine  Cox,  the  Esquire  Bedel ;  and  this 
Coleridge  would  not  do.  He  turned  his  attention 
to  Philology,  inducing  the  Philological  Society  to 
announce  a  new  English  dictionary  on  a  vast  scale, 
to  be  compiled  with  aid  from  volunteers  through- 
out the  country,  and  edited  by  himself.  I  was  one 
of  his  humble  coadjutors,  and  preserve  many  letters 
which  he  wrote  to  me  as  the  work  went  on.  With 
his  death  the  enterprise  fluttered  broken-winged  and 
fell,  to  be  revived  in  our  own  time  by  Dr.  Murray. 
He  died  in  1861,  only  thirty  years  old.  Through- 
out a  prolonged  and  distressing  illness  he  laboured 
steadily  and  cheerfully ;  beside  him  at  his  death  lay 
an  unfinished  review  of  Dasent's  "Burnt  Njal,"  which 
had  employed  him  almost  to  the  last ;  like  another 
heroic  student,  ].  R.  Green,  "he  died  learning." 
Eighteen  months  before  the  end  it  was  announced 
to  him  that  recovery  was  hopeless.  "Then,"  said 
he,  "  I  must  begin  Sanskrit  to-morrow." 


To  close  this  chapter  of  retrospect,  let  me  set 
down  the  main  differences  which  to  an  old  man 
surveying  modern  Oxford  point  the  contrast  be- 
tween then  and  now.  The  first  lies  in  the  category 
of  dress,  whose  strict  unwritten  rules  were  in  the 
Thirties  penally  enforced  and  universally  observed. 
Men  wore,  not  carried,  their  academicals  in  the 
streets ;  the  Commoner's  gown,  now  shrunk  to  an 
ugly  tippet,  floated  long  and  seemly,  a  sweet  robe 
of  durance.  Even  to  cricket  and  to  the  boats 
black  coats  and  beaver  hats  were  worn,  with 
change  and  re-change  upon  the  spot ;  a  blazer  in 
the  High  Street  would  have  drawn  a  mob.  A 
frock  or  tail  coat  was  correct  in  Hall ;  in  some 
Colleges  even  a  cut-away,  as  it  was  called,  provok- 
ing a  sconce  or  fine.  A  clever  group  of  under- 
graduates in  the  Forties  who  presumed  to  dress 
carelessly — Irving,  son  to  the  famous  preacher; 
Henry  Kingsley,  who  ranked  as  one  of  the  three 
ugliest  men  in  Oxford1 — and  some  three  or  four 
besides,  incurred  universal  obloquy,  and  were 
known  as  the  intellectual  bargees.  Nowadays  the 
garments  of  a  gentleman  are  reserved,  as  high 
school  girls  tell  me  that  they  keep  their  Long- 
fellow, for  Sundays ;  while  men  pulling  ladies  on 
the  river  go  near  to  earn  the  epithet  suggested  by 
Jonathan  Oldbuck  for  his  nephew  Hector's  Fenians, 
through  the  frank  emergence  from  amputated  trou- 
sers (Calverley's  crurum  non  enarrabile  tegmen)  of 

1 1  shall  not  give  the  names  of  the  other  two  Calibans.  One 
having  curly  teeth,  was  known  as  Curius  Dentatus ;  the  extra- 
ordinary visage  of  the  other  was  hit  off  by  the  inspired  nick- 
name, "  The  Exasperated  Oyster." 


what  Clough's  Bothie  calls  their  lily-white  thighs. 
Even  a  more  potent  factor  in  University  change  is 
the  development  of  athleticism.  At  that  time  there 
was  no  football  and  no  "  sports  "  ;  only  one  cricket 
field,  the  tl  Magdalen  ground/'  at  the  Oxford  end  of 
Cowley  marsh.  Comparatively  few  men  boated  ; 
outriggers,  dinghies,  canoes,  apolaustic  punts  were 
unknown.  Rich  men  hunted,  followed  the  drag, 
jumped  horses  over  hurdles  on  Bullingdon  Green, 
drove  tandem.  This  last  was  more  common  than 
to-day  :  from  West's,  Tollitt's,  Figg's,  Seckham's 
stables  the  leader  was  trotted  out  a  mile  or  so  to 
await  an  innocent-looking  gig,  taken  off  again  on 
the  return  so  as  to  outwit  the  Proctor.  When 
Osborne  Gordon  was  Proproctor,  he  took  his 
chief  in  a  fly  one  night  to  the  edge  of  Bagley 
Wood,  told  the  driver  to  unfasten  the  horse  and 
push  the  fly  into  a  ditch.  The  expected  tandem 
came — pulled  up — "Can  we  help  you?"  said  the 
Jehu  dismounting,  when  out  stepped  the  velvet 
sleeves  with  "Your  name  and  College."  The 
plant  was  complete ;  but  Gordon  had  made  the 
Proctor  promise  amnesty,  and  the  men  were  un- 

These  were  amusements  of  the  wealthy ;  the 
great  mass  of  men,  whose  incomes  yielded  no 
margin  for  equestrianism,  took  their  exercise 
in  daily  walks — the  words  "  constitutional "  and 
"  grind  "  not  yet  invented.  At  two  o'clock,  in  pairs 
or  threes,  the  whole  University  poured  forth  for  an 
eight  or  ten  miles'  toe  and  heel  on  the  Iffley,  Head- 
ington,  Abingdon,  Woodstock  roads,  returning  to 
five  o'clock  dinner.  The  restriction  told  undoubt- 


edly  in  favour  of  intellectual  life.  The  thought 
devoted  now  to  matches  and  events  and  high 
jumps  and  "  bikes  "  moved  then  on  loftier  planes  ; 
in  our  walks,  no  less  than  in  our  rooms,  then,  not 
as  now, 

"  We  glanced  from  theme  to  theme, 

Discussed  the  books  to  love  and  hate, 
Or  touched  the  changes  of  the  State, 
Or  threaded  some  Socratic  dream. 

There  once  we  held  debate,  a  band 
Of  youthful  friends,  on  mind,  and  art, 
And  labour,  and  the  changing  mart, 

And  all  the  framework  of  the  land." 

Inly  I  fear  in  unathletic  days  was  possible  the 
iffluent  talk  of  a  Tennyson  and  Hallam  on  the 
Cam,  on  the  I  sis  of  a  Whately  and  a  Copleston,  a 
Newman  and  a  Froude,  a  Congreve  and  Mark 
Pattison,  Stanley  and  Jowett,  Clough  and  Matthew 
Arnold — brain  as  against  muscle,  spirit  as  against 
flesh,  the  man  as  against  the  animal,  the  higher  as 
against  the  lower  life. 



"  See  unfading  in  honours,  immortal  in  years, 
The  great  Mother  of  Churchmen  and  Tories  appears" 


"  Presence-of-Mind  "  Smith — "  Planting  Peckwater  " — Gaisford — His 
Achievements  as  a  Scholar — His  brusquerie — Helen  Douglas 
— "Brigadier"  Barnes — Dr.  Jelf— Pusey — A  Veiled  Prophet — 
His  Mother,  Lady  Lucy  Pusey — Pusey's  Personal  Characteristics 
— His  Brother  the  Agriculturist — Roots,  Esculent  and  Hebrew — 
A  Religious  Vivisector — How  Pusey  got  his  Hebrew  Professorship 
— My  Relations  with  him — The  Sacrificial  Lamb — Attitude 
towards  Biblical  Criticism  and  Free  Thought — His  Sermons — 
Dicta — The  Year  1855 — Other  Chronicles  of  Christchurch — 
Liddell— His  Greatness— Max  Muller— Ouseley— The  Jelf  Row— 
The  Thunny— Lewis  Carroll— His  Girl  Play-fellows— Why  his 
Friendships  with  them  Ended — A  Personality  Apart. 

OF  men,  no  less  than  plants,  the  upgrowth  and 
stature  are  unequal.  The  tallest  ears  in  Thrasy- 
bulus'  cornfield,  the  proudest  poppies  in  Tarquin's 
garden,  were,  to  use  the  metaphor  of  Prospero, 
"  trashed  for  overtopping "  ;  and  so,  inter  silvas 
Academi,  some  men  stand  out  conspicuous  to  the 
backward  glance  of  memory  above  the  haze  which 
shrouds  the  lower  levels  of  the  generations  past, 
claiming  to  be  "  taken  off  "  in  milder  sense  than  by 
the  enigmatic  cruelty  of  the  Grecian  or  Etruscan 
tyrant.  Let  me  embalm  in  fragmentary  guise  some 


relics  of  the  wit  and  wisdom  of  those  once  laurelled 
now  half-forgotten  heroes. 

In  the  august  procession  of  Colleges  Christchurch 
leads  the  way.  Its  Dean  at  the  opening  of  the 
Thirties — /cal  yap  eri,  Srjv  TJV — was  "  Presence-of- 
Mind"  Smith.  The  tradition  which  explains  the 
name,  and  which  has  diverted  many  University 
generations,  may  perhaps  now  be  consigned  to 
oblivion.  Smith's  daughter  Cecilia  was  engaged 
(and  afterwards  married)  to  Richard  Harington  of 
Brasenose.  Harington  was  Proctor,  and  with  the 
young  lady  and  her  party  attended  a  concert  at  the 
Star.  Behind  them  sat  some  Christchurch  men, 
who  amused  themselves  by  removing  with  a  sharp 
knife  the  "  penwiper,"  of  no  utility  and  of  uncertain 
origin,  worn  by  noblemen  and  proctors.  What  was 
to  be  done  with  the  trophy  ?  They  hurried  home, 
pinned  the  penwiper  to  the  Dean's  door,  and  retired 
into  the  obscurity  of  the  adjacent  archway.  Tom 
Gate  opened,  the  carriage  drove  to  the  steps,  the 
party  ascended  to  the  door.  A  hand,  stretched  to 
ring  the  bell,  was  arrested  by  the  novel  ornament ; 
it  was  taken  down  and  handed  round.  "  Why,  it  is 
Dick's  penwiper,"  said  Miss  Cecilia's  voice,  as  she 
fingered  the  back-piece  of  her  lover's  toga  ;  and  a 
chorus  of  Samsonic  laughter  was  heard  retiring  up 
to  Peckwater. 

Peckwater  enriched  the  Oxford  vocabulary 
with  a  proverb  in  the  reign  of  Smith's  successor, 
Gaisford.  During  one  of  his  periodical  quarrels 
with  the  men,  some  of  them  scaled  his  garden 
wall  in  the  night,  dug  up  a  quantity  of  shrubs, 
and  planted  them  in  Peckwater,  which  was  found 


next  morning  verdant  with  unwonted  boskage ; 
and  for  many  years  "planting  Peckwater"  was 
synonymous  with  a  Christchurch  row.  Gaisford 
became  Dean  unexpectedly ;  the  men  came  up 
in  October,  1831,  to  find  his  grim  person  in  Smith's 
vacated  stall.  Smith  appears  to  have  been  uneasy 
at  Oxford,  while  Gaisford  longed  to  return  to  it 
from  Durham.  So  in  some  occult  fashion  Bishop 
Van  Mildert,  whose  niece  was  Gaisford's  wife, 
effected  an  exchange;  Gaisford  came  to  the 
deanery,  Smith  subsided  into  one  of  the  Silver 
Canonries  of  Durham ;  his  portrait  hangs  in  the 
Castle.  Gaisford  was  no  divine ;  he  preached 
annually  in  the  cathedral  on  Christmas  Day,  and 
a  sentence  from  one  of  his  sermons  reverberated 
into  term-time. 

"  Nor  can  I  do  better,  in  conclusion,  than  impress  upon  you 
the  study  of  Greek  literature,  which  not  only  elevates  above 
the  vulgar  herd,  but  leads  not  infrequently  to  positions  of  con- 
siderable emolument." 

The  muse  had  taught  him,  as  she  taught  Horace,  malignum 
spernere  vulgas. 

He  was  a  rough  and  surly  man ;  had  owed  his 
rise  originally  to  Cyril  Jackson,  who  discovered 
the  genius  of  the  obscure  freshman,  gave  him  a 
Christchurch  studentship,  and  watched  over  him. 
"  You  will  never  be  a  gentleman,"  said  the  "  Great 
Dean"  to  his  protege  with  lordly  candour,  "but 
you  may  succeed  with  certainty  as  a  scholar. 
Take  some  little  known  Greek  author,  and  throw 
your  knowledge  into  editing  it :  that  will  found 
your  reputation."  Gaisford  selected  the  great 
work  on  Greek  metres  of  the  Alexandrian  gram- 


marian  Hephaestion,  annotated  it  with  marvellous 
erudition,  and  became  at  once  a  classical  authority. 
In  1811  Lord  Liverpool,  with  a  highly  complimen- 
tary letter,  offered  him  the  Professorship  of  Greek  : 
he  replied  :  "  My  Lord,  I  have  received  your  letter, 
and  accede  to  its  contents.  Yours,  etc/'  The 
gaucherie  came  to  Cyril  Jackson's  ears;  he  sent 
for  Gaisford,  dictated  a  proper  acknowledgment, 
and  made  him  send  it  to  the  Prime  Minister  with 
a  handsomely  bound  copy  of  his  Hephaestion. 
He  never  lectured  ;  but  the  higher  Oxford  scholar- 
ship gained  world-wide  lustre  from  his  produc- 
tions. His  Suidas  and  Etymologicon  Magnum 
are  glorified  in  Scott's  Homerics  on  the  strife 
between  Wellington's  and  Peel's  supporters  for 
the  Chancellorship. 

'AAA'  oo-oi  €is  KatfeS/o^v  irepl  BooTropov  ^ye/ocfl 
8va)  SoAi^ocr/cta  TraAAoov 
ofs  Sa/xv^o 
ov  8vo  y 

rAcuev  drap[j,vKTOi(ri  7T/)ocrw7ra(rt 

oi'ot  vvv  PporoL  tier  •  6  Se  /uv  /5ea  TraAAe  Kat  otos. 

In  a  facetious  record  of  the  Hebdomadal  Board 
Meeting  in  1851  to  protest  against  University 
Reform,  he  is  quoted  as  professing  that  he  found 
no  relaxation  so  pleasant  on  a  warm  afternoon 
as  to  lie  on  a  sofa  with  a  Suidas  in  one's  arms. 
These  Lexica,  with  his  Herodotus,  won  cordial 
respect  from  German  scholars,  who  had  formed 
their  estimate  of  Oxford  from  third-rate  perfor- 
mances like  Dr.  Shaw's  "Apollonius  Rhodius." 
His  son  used  to  relate  how,  going  with  his  father 
to  call  on  Dindorf  at  Leipsic,  the  door  was  opened 


by  a  shabby  man  whom  they  took  to  be  the 
famulus,  but  who  on  the  announcement  of  Gais- 
ford's  name  rushed  into  his  arms  and  kissed  him. 
Poor  Shaw's  merits;  on  the  other  hand,  they  ap- 
praised with  contumely.  The  "Apollonius"  was 
re-edited,  I  think,  by  Bockh,  whose  volume  was 
eagerly  scanned  by  Shaw  in  hopes  of  some  com- 
plimentary recognition.  At  last  he  found  cited 
one  of  his  criticisms  with  the  appended  comment 
" Putidissime  Shavius"  !  Gaisf ord  was  an  unamiable 
Head,  lessjthan  cordial  to  the  Tutors,  and  speaking 
roughly  to  his  little  boys.  He  nominated  my  old 
schoolfellow,  "Sam"  Gardiner  the  historian,  to  a 
studentship.  Sam  became  an  Irvingite,  and  thought 
it  right  to  inform  the  Dean,  who  at  once  sent  for 
the  College  books  and  erased  Gardiner's  name. 
He  had  a  liking  for  old  Hancock,  the  porter  at 
Canterbury  Gate,  with  whom  he  often  paused  to 
joke,  and  whom  he  called  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  Hancock  once  presumed  so  far  as 
to  invite  the  Decanal  party  under  that  name  to 
tea  :  I  do  not  think  they  condescended  to  immure 
themselves  in  those  unwholesome  subterranean 
rooms  of  his.  The  story  of  the  Dean  of  Oriel's 
compliments  to  the  Dean  of  Christchurch  is  true 
in  part.  The  Dean  Minor  was  Chase ;  the  Dean's 
remark,  not  written  but  spoken  to  his  neighbour, 
was,  "Oh!  yes — Alexander  the  Coppersmith  to 
Alexander  the  Great."  Equally  confused  is  the 
tradition  of  his  daughter's  suitor.  It  runs  that 
W.  E.  Jelf  proposed  to  Miss  Gaisford,  who  refused 
him ;  that  Gaisford  urged  his  deserts,  as  of  a 
scholar  knowing  more  about  76  than  any  man  in 


Oxford  : — that  the  young  lady  answered  ft  it  might 
be  so,  but  she  herself  knew  too  much  about  fiev 
to  accept  him."  Those  who  remember  Gaisford  will 
doubt  if  his  respect  for  Greek  would  overbear 
his  indignation  that  a  mere  Tutor  should  cast 
eyes  upon  his  daughter ;  those  who  knew  Osborne 
Gordon  will  give  a  tolerable  guess  at  the  origin 
of  the  story.  A  story  indeed  there  was ;  of  love 
strong  as  death,  of  brave  and  patient  constancy, 
of  bright  too  brief  fruition,  not  to  be  profaned 
by  mention  here.  Est  et  fideli  tuta  silentio  merces. 
I  am  growing  tragic,  and,  as  Wordsworth  sings, 
the  moving  accident  is  not  my  trade.  Let  me 
end  off  old  Gaisford's  cenotaph  with  lines  com- 
posed, it  was  believed,  by  Henry  Cotton,  after- 
wards Archdeacon  of  Cashel,  who  assumed  certainly 
in  conceiving  them  the  sock  rather  than  the  buskin, 
when  Gaisford,  unloverlike,  slovenly,  black-a-vised, 
wooed  and  won  his  first  wife,  the  beautiful  Helen 
Douglas  : — 

"  Here's  to  the  maid  who  so  graceful  advances  ; 

JTis  fair  Helen  Douglas,  if  right  I  divine. 
Cupid,  thou  classical  god  of  soft  glances, 
Teach  me  to  ogle  and  make  the  nymph  mine. 

Look  on  a  Tutor  true, 

Helen,  for  love  of  you, 
Just  metamorphosed  from  blacksmith  to  beau — 

Hair  combed  and  breeches  new, 

Love  has  changed  Roderick  Dhu, 
While  every  gownsman  cries,  wondering,  '  Oho  ! ' 

In  Greek,  I  believe,  I  must  utter  my  passion, 
For  Greek's  more  familiar  than  English  to  me ; 

And  Byron  of  late  has  brought  Greek  into  fashion, 
There's  some  in  his  *  Fair  Maid  of  Athens' — let's  see. 


But  this  vile  modern  Greek 
Never  will  do  to  speak  ; 

Let  me  try — ZUTJ  /AOU  <ras  dyarru —  ? 

Pshaw  !     I  don't  like  the  tone  ; 
Let  me  now  try  my  own — 
K\vdi  (lev  'EX^i?,  ffov  yap  fyw. 

But  here  comes  a  handsome  young  spark  whom  I  plucked  once. 

Perhaps  he'll  make  love  to  her  out  of  mere  spite  ; 
Aye,  touch  thy  cap  and  be  proud  of  thy  luck,  dunce, 
But  Greek  will  go  farther  than  grins,  if  I'm  right. 
By  Dis  the  infernal  god, 
See,  see  —  they  smile  —  they  nod  — 

Oh  !  should  my  faithless  flame 
Love  this  young  Malcolm  Graeme, 

"Ororoi  TOTOTOI     ev 

Thank  heaven  !  there's  one  I  don't  see  much  about  her, 

Tis  her  townsman,  the  Tutor  of  Oriel,  Fitz- James  ; 
For  though  of  the  two  I  am  somewhat  the  stouter, 
His  legs  are  far  neater,  and  older  his  claims. 

Yet  every  Christchurch  blade 

Says  I  have  won  the  maid  ; 
Every  one,  Dean  and  Don,  swears  it  is  so. 

Honest  Lloyd,  blunt  and  bluff, 

Levett  and  Goodenough, 
All  clap  my  back  and  cry  '  Roderick's  her  beau.' 

Come  then,  your  influence  propitious  be  shedding, 

Ye  Gnomes  of  Greek  metres,  since  crowned  are  my  hopes  ; 
Waltz  in  Trochaic  time,  waltz  at  my  wedding, 
Nymphs  who  preside  over  accent  and  tropes. 
Scourge  of  false  quantities, 
Ghost  of  Hephaestion,  rise  ! 
Haply  to  this  my  success  I  may  owe ; 
Come  sound  the  Doric  string, 
Let  us  in  concert  sing, 
Joy  to  Hephaestion — Black  Roderick,  and  Co." 


Gaisford's  senior  Canon  was  "  Brigadier  "  Barnes, 
a  name  persistent  to  the  end  of  his  long  life  be- 
cause he  had  borne  it  in  the  Oxford  Volunteer 
Corps  of  1803.  To  him  was  always  attributed  what 
is  I  suppose  the  archetype  of  leading  questions, 
launched  at  a  floundering  youth  in  a  Homer  exa- 
mination— "  Who  dragged  whom  how  many  times 
round  the  walls  of  what  ?  "  All  the  Canons,  except 
Pusey,  were  more  or  less  nepotist  in  their  nomina- 
tion to  Studentships ;  but  none  of  them  came  up 
to  Barnes.  "  I  don't  know  what  we're  coming 
to  !  I've  given  studentships  to  my  sons,  and  to 
my  nephews,  and  to  my  nephews'  children,  and 
there  are  no  more  of  my  family  left.  I  shall  have 
to  give  them  by  merit  one  of  these  days ! "  I 
knew  him  as  a  large,  red-faced,  kindly,  very  deaf 
old  gentleman,  with  three  pleasant  daughters,  who 
gave  evening  parties.  To  one  of  these  came  upon 
a  time  Mrs.  and  the  Miss  Lloyds,  widow  and 
daughters  of  Bagot's  predecessor  in  the  Oxford 
See.  The  youngest  girl  had  engaged  herself  to 
Sanctuary,  an  undergraduate  of  Exeter.  The 
mother  frowned  on  the  attachment ;  the  sisters 
favoured  it.  Sanctuary's  rooms  in  Exeter  com- 
manded the  Lloyd's  dwelling,  which  was  next  door 
to  Kettel  Hall ;  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  when 
mamma  went  out,  a  canary  was  hung  outside  the 
drawing-room  window,  and  the  young  gentleman 
walked  across.1  Old  Barnes  had  imbibed  from 
his  daughters  some  hazy  notion  of  the  liaison,  and 
greeted  the  pretty  rebel,  of  whom  he  was  very 

1  "  Je  1'ai  vu,"  wrote  old  Canon  Tristram  on  reading  this. 



fond,  with  a  loud  "  How  do  you  do,  dear  Miss , 

and  how  is  Mr.  Tabernacle  ?  " 

Another  Canon  meriting  record  was  Dr.  Jelf. 
He  was  also  Principal  of  King's  College,  London, 
and  therein  instrumental  in  expelling  F.  D.  Maurice 
from  his  Professorship,  as  a  tribute  to  the  majesty 
of  everlasting  fire.  He  had  been  tutor  of  the  blind 
King  of  Hanover,  whose  full-length  portrait  in  oils 
adorned  the  drawing-room,  and  he  had  married 
a  Hanoverian,  a  highly  accomplished  Countess 
Schlippenbach.  Her  presence,  and  that  of  two 
young  musical  daughters,  made  his  house  exceed- 
ingly attractive  during  his  canonical  residence.  I 
remember  taking  the  tenor  part  with  the  young 
ladies  in  Mendelssohn's  Quartetts,  while  Thomson, 
afterwards  Archbishop,  sang  the  bass.  I  recall  too 
a  dinner  party  one  day  when  I  championed 
Johnson's  "  Rambler "  against  general  disparage- 
ment, until  from  the  head  of  the  table  Jelf  in- 
terposed, thanked  me  for  what  I  had  said,  and 
told  us  that  at  a  critical  period  in  his  own  life 
he  had  owed  very  much  to  certain  Papers  in  the 
"  Rambler." 

Of  Buckland  and  of  Bull  I  have  spoken  ;  there 
remains  Pusey.  In  those  days  he  was  a  Veiled 
Prophet,  always  a  recluse,  and  after  his  wife's 
death,  in  1839,  invisible  except  when  preaching. 
He  increased  as  Newman  decreased ;  the  name 
"Puseyite"  took  the  place  of  "  Newmanite."  As 
mystagogue,  as  persecuted,  as  prophet,  he  appealed 
to  the  romantic,  the  generous,  the  receptive  natures  ; 
no  sermons  attracted  undergraduates  as  did  his.  I 
can  see  him  passing  to  the  pulpit  through  the 


crowds  which  overflowed  the  shabby,  inconvenient, 
unrestored  cathedral,  the  pale,  ascetic,  furrowed 
face,  clouded  and  dusky  always  as  with  suggestions 
of  a  blunt  or  half-used  razor,  the  bowed  grizzled 
head,  the  drop  into  the  pulpit  out  of  sight  until  the 
hymn  was  over,  then  the  harsh,  unmodulated  voice, 
the  high-pitched  devotional  patristicism,  the  dog- 
mas, obvious  or  novel,  not  so  much  ambassadorial 
as  from  a  man  inhabiting  his  message ;  now  and 
then  the  search-light  thrown  with  startling  vividness 
on  the  secrets  hidden  in  many  a  hearer's  heart. 
Some  came  once  from  mere  curiosity  and  not 
again,  some  felt  repulsion,  some  went  away  alarmed, 
impressed,  transformed.  It  was  in  the  beginning 
of  the  Fifties  that  I  first  came  to  know  him  well, 
sometimes  in  his  brother's  house  at  Pusey,  some- 
times in  his  own.  His  mother,  too,  I  knew,  Lady 
Lucy  Pusey,  a  dame  of  more  than  ninety  years, 
preserving  the  picturesque  dress  and  sweet  though 
formal  manners  of  Richardson's  Cedar  Parlour. 
She  remembered  driving  under  Temple  Bar  with 
her  mother  as  a  little  girl,  and  being  told  to  look  up 
and  see  the  last  "traitor's"  head  still  mouldering  on 
its  spike.  She  would  tell  me  stories  of  her  school, 
where  the  girls  sat  daily  in  a  horrible  machine  con- 
structed to  Procrusteanise  a  long  and  graceful  neck 
by  drawing  up  the  head  and  chin ;  of  her  wedding 
introduction  to  Queen  Charlotte's  drawing-room, 
borne  in  her  sedan  chair  by  brown-coated 
"Johnnies"  and  attended  by  running  footmen  with 
silk  coats  and  wax  flambeaux;  of  the  " reverend 
gentleman ''  from  Oxford  who  rode  over  to  Pusey 
each  Sunday  morning  in  boots  and  cords,  read 


prayers  in  the  little  church,  dined  in  the  servants' 
hall,  and  carried  his  ministrations  and  his  boots  to 
two  other  parishes  for  the  afternoon.  She  used 
old-fashioned  pronunciations,  such  as  t'other, 
'ooman,  'em  for  them.  "  Green  tea  poisonous  ? 
look  at  me.  I'm  an  old  'ooman  of  ninety-two,  and 
I've  drunk  strong  green  tea  all  my  life  !  "  She  loved 
to  talk  of  Ed'ard,  as  she  called  her  famous  son,  re- 
lating how,  when  he  gained  his  First  Class  and  his 
father  begged  him  to  claim  some  valuable  comme- 
morative present,  he  asked  for  a  complete  set  of  the 
Fathers ;  and  how  in  the  Long  Vacation  he  used  to 
carry  his  folios  to  a  shady  corner  in  the  garden 
which  she  pointed  out,  and  sit  there  reading  with  a 
tub  of  cold  water  close  at  hand,  into  which  he 
plunged  his  curly  head  whenever  study  made  it 
ache.  She  died,  I  think,  in  1858  ;  her  sedan  chair, 
in  which  she  regularly  went  to  church  on  Sunday 
from  her  house  in  Grosvenor  Square,  and  which 
attracted  always  a  little  crowd  of  onlookers,  was 
one  of  the  last  used  in  England. 

Two  things  impressed  me  when  I  first  saw 
Dr.  Pusey  close :  his  exceeding  slovenliness  of 
person  ;  buttonless  boots,  necktie  limp,  intonsum 
mentum>  unbrushed  coat  collar,  grey  hair  "all-to- 
ruffled  " ;  and  the  almost  artificial  sweetness  of  his 
smile,  contrasting  as  it  did  with  the  sombre  gloom 
of  his  face  when  in  repose.  He  lived  the  life  of  a 
godly  eremite :  reading  no  newspapers,  he  was 
unacquainted  with  the  commonest  names  and 
occurrences ;  and  was  looked  upon  with  alarm 
in  the  Berkshire  neighbourhood,  where  an  old  lady, 
much  respected  as  "a  deadly  one  for  prophecy," 


From  a  pen-and-ink  drawing  of  the  Thirties 
Photographed  from  the  Print  by  Mrs.  Frieda  Girdlestone 


had  identified  him  with  one  of  the  three  frogs  which 
were  to  come  out  of  the  dragon's  mouth.  His 
brother,  the  renowned  agriculturist,  would  intro- 
duce him  to  visitors  with  the  aphorism  that  one  of 
them  dealt  in  esculent,  the  other  in  Hebrew  roots  ; 
but,  like  his  friend  and  follower  Charles  Marriott,  he 
had  no  small  talk,  and  would  sit  absolutely  silent  in 
strange  company.  Into  external  society  he  never 
went;  was  once  persuaded  by  his  old  friend  and 
neighbour  Sir  Robert  Throgmorton  to  meet  at 
dinner  the  Roman  Catholic  antiquary  and  theo- 
logian Dr.  Rock ;  but  he  came  back  bewailing  that 
Dr.  Rock  had  opened  controversy  so  soon  as  they 
sat  down,  had  kept  it  up  after  the  ladies  had  left  the 
table,  had  walked  homewards  with  him  in  order  to 
pursue  it,  flinging  a  last  word  after  his  opponent 
as  they  parted  at  Mr.  Pusey's  lodge-gate.  In 
contrast  to  his  disinclination  for  general  talk  was 
his  morbid  love  of  groping  in  the  spiritual  interiors 
of  those  with  whom  he  found  himself  alone.  He 
would  ask  of  strangers  questions  which  but  for  his 
sweet  and  courteous  manner  they  must  have  deemed 
impertinent.  I  had  not  been  in  his  company  a 
week  before  he  had  extracted  my  past  history,  habit 
of  mind,  future  aims.  Persons  who  evaded  his 
questionings  fell  in  his  opinion ;  he  denounced 
as  reprobate  a  sullen  groom  who  drove  him  in 
and  out  of  Oxford,  and  who  had  repelled  his 
attempts  at  inquisition  :  the  habit  of  acting  towards 
others  as  a  confessor  seemed  to  have  generated 
a  scientific  pleasure  in  religious  vivisection.  He 
had  countless  clients  of  this  kind ;  women  chiefly, 
but  young  men,  too,  as  readers  of  Mark  Pattison's 


"  Memoirs  "  will  recollect.  Flys  came  to  the  door, 
from  which  descended  ladies,  Una-like  in  wimple 
and  black  stole,  "as  one  that  inly  mourned," 
obtained  their  interview,  and  went  away.  He  paid 
frequent  visits  for  the  same  purpose  to  Miss  Sellon's 
institution — Chretien's  wicked  witticism  will  recur 
to  some  who  read1 — and  on  our  occasional  visits 
to  Wantage,  where  Butler  reigned  as  vicar,  with 
Liddon  and  Mackonochie  as  his  curates,  we  were 
detained  till  late  at  night  while  he  gave  audience  to 
ladies  of  the  place.  Sisterhoods  were  his  especial 
delight  and  admiration  ;  he  had  begun  to  work 
for  their  establishment  in  1840,  somewhat  against 
Newman's  judgment;  his  eager  support  of  them 
being  rooted  less  in  the  benefit  they  might  confer 
on  the  community  than  as  a  means  of  securing 
their  votaries  in  the  virginity  which  he  had  come  to 
look  upon  as  the  highest  state  of  life.  He  made 
an  idol  of  celibacy,  exerting  all  his  influence  on 
one  occasion  and  setting  many  springs  in  motion  to 
enlist  in  the  Clewer  Home  a  young  orphan  lady 
whose  friends  deemed  her  not  old  enough  for  such 
a  life,  and  treating  his  ultimate  discomfiture  as 
a  victory  of  Evil  over  Good.  His  obscurantist 
dread  of  worldly  influences  begot  the  feeling  that  no 
young  woman  was  safe  except  in  a  nunnery,  no 
young  man  except  in  Orders.  He  would  urge  men 
to  be  ordained  at  the  earliest  possible  period  : 
controversial  knowledge,  systematic  reading,  theo- 
logical erudition,  might  come  afterwards ;  if  only 

1  There  was  a  foolish  report  of  his  contemplated  marriage  to 
Miss  Sellon  :  Chretien  of  Oriel  remarked  that  the  offspring  of 
the  alliance  would  be  known  as  the  "  Pusey  Miscellany? 



the  youth  were  pious,  earnest,  docile,  the  great 
thing  was  to  fix,  to  secure,  to  capture  him. 

In  learning  Pusey  stood  probably  supreme 
amongst  English  divines  of  his  century :  the  other 
leaders  of  the  movement — even  Keble,  much  more 
Newman — were  by  comparison  half-educated  men. 
They  knew  no  German — he  was  an  adept ;  they 
were  not  Orientalists — he  had  toiled  over  five  years 
for  sixteen  hours  a  day  at  Hebrew,  Arabic,  Chaldee, 
under  the  Semitic  scholar  Freytag.  His  vast 
patristic  knowledge  is  shown  in  his  exhaustive 
catenae,  and  in  the  "  Library  of  the  Fathers " 
which  he  conceived  and  conducted.  He  was 
familiar  with  the  entire  range  of  Protestant  Refor- 
mation literature,  with  the  English  Deists  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  with  the  German  Rationalists 
of  the  nineteenth.  His  appreciation  of  language 
as  the  vital  genius  of  cultured  human  thought  was 
not  so  much  an  acquirement  as  spontaneous ; 
corresponding  felicities  of  diction  in  one  or  another 
tongue  seemed  to  present  themselves  to  him  in- 
stinctively and  without  effort :  Keble,  his  examiner 
in  the  Schools,  used  to  say  that  Pusey's  construe 
of  Pindar  revealed  to  him  for  the  first  time  a 
perfect  English  equivalent  of  the  magnificent 
dithyrambic  roll  which  he  had  believed  to  be 

Pusey's  religious  development  was  gradual. 
Brought  up  in  lax  traditional  English  Church- 
manship,  he  was  early  attracted  by,  and  always 
loved,  the  Evangelicals,  sharing  their  deep  rever- 
ence for  the  written  Word,  and  their  dislike  of 
what  he  called  "  Orthodoxism,"  the  "  godless  ortho- 


doxy "  of  Mark  Pattison's  essay — an  exaltation, 
that  is,  of  form  and  phrase  above  the  realities 
they  were  constructed  to  convey.  He  was  initiated 
into  controversy  through  a  brilliant  schoolfellow 
and  friend,  Julian  Hibbert,  who,  a  sceptic  even 
while  at  Eton,  became  later  a  pugnacious  atheist. 
Pusey  determined  to  face  and  fight  out  the  diffi- 
culties which  Hibbert's  arguments  had  raised,  and, 
after  taking  his  degree  at  Oxford,  betook  himself 
to  the  German  Universities,  where,  more  vigorously 
than  elsewhere  in  Europe,  Rationalism  at  that  time 
flourished.  He  often  spoke  in  after  years  of  the 
kindness  shown  to  him  by  the  professors  at  Got- 
tingen  and  Berlin  ;  they  listened  to  his  arguments, 
maintained  or  sometimes  modified  their  own. 
Their  influence  on  his  mind  appeared  in  his  first 
published  work,  a  defence  of  German  teaching 
against  a  powerful  attack  made  upon  it  by  Hugh 
James  Rose.  Later  he  came  to  think  that  he  had 
judged  his  friends  too  leniently,  felt  alarm  at  the 
tendency  of  their  destructive  criticism,  and  with- 
drew his  book  from  circulation. 

In  one  of  our  walks  he  told  me  of  his  appoint- 
ment to  the  Hebrew  Professorship.  He  had  been  a 
favourite  with  Lloyd,  who  held  besides  his  Oxford 
bishopric  the  post  of  Divinity  Professor,  and  who 
when  at  Cuddesdon  or  in  London  gave  up  his 
Christchurch  house  and  library  to  his  young  friend's 
use.  Pusey  owned  a  Hebrew  Bible  with  large  folio 
interleavings,  and  these  were  filled  with  the  notes  of 
ten  years'  study.  Once  the  Bishop  came  suddenly 
to  his  house,  and  Pusey,  vacating  it  in  a  hurry,  left 
his  folio  behind.  It  caught  Lloyd's  eye  :  he  examined 


it,  and  gave  it  back  without  remark ;  but  when  soon 
afterwards  Dr.  Nicol  died  and  Sir  Robert  Peel 
consulted  Lloyd  as  to  the  appointment,  he  strongly 
recommended  Pusey,  who  became  Regius  Pro- 
fessor at  the  age  of  twenty-nine.  Lloyd  cautioned 
him — "  Remember,  you  must  be  circumspect,  you 
will  be  <j)9ovepwv  (frdovepcbraros."  Lord  Radnor,  the 
head  of  the  family,  was  just  then  in  vehement 
Opposition,  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  colleagues 
attacked  him  for  patronising  a  Bouverie.  "  How 
could  I  help  it,"  said  the  Duke,  "when  they  told 
me  he  was  the  best  man  ?  "  He  was  a  laborious 
Professor,  but  a  dull  lecturer.  His  lectures,  given 
in  his  library,  were  conversational,  not  continuous 
or  methodised;  his  manner  hesitating,  iterative, 
involved  ;  you  had  to  look  out  for  and  painfully 
disentangle  the  valuable  learning  they  contained. 
Rarely  his  subject  would  inspire  him.  Once  at  the 
close  of  a  wearisome  disquisition  on  Isaiah  xxi.  he 
suddenly  woke  up  at  the  words,  lt  Watchman,  what 
of  the  night  ? "  gave  a  swift,  brilliant,  exhaustive 
paraphrase  of  those  two  oracular  verses,  sent  us 
away  electrified  and  wondering.  Two  other 
incidents  from  the  lecture  room  rise  up  before  me. 
He  was  laying  down  the  probable  site  of  ancient 
Tyre,  when  an  eccentric  student  broke  in  to  quote 
from  memory  Grote's  dictum  on  the  subject,  dif- 
fering altogether  from  the  Doctor's.  He  looked 
scared  for  a  moment  at  the  interruption,  then 
smilingly  reserved  the  point,  and  told  us  next  time 
that  he  had  read  Grote's  note  and  acceded  to  his 
view.  Another  day  I  noticed  that  he  was  un- 
wontedly  distrait,  casting  glances  towards  the  same 


student,  who,  always  nervous  and  restless,  was 
crumpling  in  his  fingers  a  scrap  of  written  paper. 
When  the  room  cleared  and  I  remained  to  chat,  as 
I  sometimes  did,  he  joyously  pounced  upon  the 
paper,  which  had  fallen  under  a  chair,  and  showed 
it  to  me  crammed  with  manuscript  in  his  own 
minute  handwriting,  representing  as  he  told  me 
two  days'  labour,  which  would  have  been  lost  to 
him  had  young  Fidgety  destroyed  it. 

He  early  gave  me  a  proof  of  his  regard,  vouch- 
safed I  was  told  only  to  a  few,  in  setting  me  to  work 
for  him  :  successive  pages  from  Greek  and  Latin 
which  I  translated  look  me  now  in  the  face  when  I 
open  his  "  Catena  on  the  Eucharist."  But  he  would 
let  no  one  else  overwork  me,  for  I  had  much  on  my 
hands  at  the  time  ;  and  when  he  heard  poor  Edward 
Herbert,  then  an  Eton  boy,  murdered  afterwards 
by  Greek  brigands,  petition  me  to  read  Virgil  with 
him  in  the  evenings,  interposed  an  eager  negative — 
"  Mr.  Tuckwell's  evening  is  the  poor  man's  one 
ewe  lamb,  and  I  will  not  have  it  sacrificed."  Twice 
he  spoke  to  me  of  his  wife,  whom  he  had  loved  at 
eighteen,  married  at  twenty-eight,  lost  at  thirty-nine. 
A  common  friend  was  sacrificing  an  important 
sphere  of  work  in  order  to  seek  with  his  delicate 
wife  a  warmer  climate,  and  I  asked  him — no 
doubt  a  priggish  query — if  the  abandonment  were 
justifiable  on  the  highest  grounds.  "Justifiable  ?  " 
he  said,  "  I  would  have  given  up  anything  and 

gone   anywhere,   but "  ;    his  voice   shook,  the 

aposiopesis  remained  unfilled.  Once  afterwards  I 
was  with  him  in  his  drawing-room  at  Oxford.  It 
had  been  newly  papered  when  the  family  from 


Pusey  came  to  live  with  him.  He  told  me  that  the 
former  paper  had  been  chosen  by  his  wife,  and 
that  to  cover  it  up  had  pained  him,  but  pointed 
with  a  sad  smile  to  a  corner  where  the  fresh  paper 
had  been  rubbed  away  (by  his  own  fingers  I 
suspected)  and  an  inch  or  two  of  the  old  pattern 
disclosed.  He  was  greatly  amused  by  a  report, 
which  I  repeated  to  him  as  current  in  Oxford,  that 
he  punished  his  children  for  their  misdeeds  by 
holding  their  fingers  in  the  candle  as  an  antepast 
of  hell-fire.  He  said  he  had  never  punished  his 
children  in  his  life,  and  his  son  Philip,  to  whom 
the  tradition  was  repeated,  added  that  the  nearest 
approach  to  punishment  he  could  recollect  was 
when  his  father,  looking  over  his  shoulder  as  he 
read  a  novel  on  a  Sunday,  pulled  his  ear  and  said, 
"  Oh,  Phil,  you  heathen  ! "  The  well-known 
anecdote  of  the  lamb  he  corrected  for  me.  He 
was  in  the  three-horse  omnibus  which  used  to  run 
from  Oxford  to  the  railway  at  Steventon,  and  a 
garrulous  lady  talked  to  him  of  the  Newmanites 
and  of  Dr.  Pusey,  adding  that  the  latter,  she  was 
credibly  informed,  sacrificed  a  lamb  every  Friday. 
"I  thought  I  ought  to  tell  her,';  he  said;  "so  I 
answered,  '  My  dear  madam,  I  am  Dr.  Pusey,  and 
I  do  not  know  how  to  kill  a  lamb.' " 

In  argument  he  was  always  modest  and  candid. 
Mr.  Algernon  Herbert,  the  eccentric,  the  omniscient, 
the  adorable,  was  referring  Christ's  miracles  to 
personal  magnetism  and  medica  fides ;  to  no  innate 
thaumaturgic  power  that  is,  but  to  a  passionate 
belief  on  the  part  of  the  recipients  which  acted  on 
their  bodily  frames.  Pusey  frankly  accepted  the 


theory  as  regarded  the  healing  of  functional  maladies, 
citing  modern  instances  in  support  of  it,  but  point- 
ing out  that  the  explanation  failed  to  cover  the 
removal  of  organic  disease  ;  that  when,  for  instance, 
a  man  born  blind  was  reported  to  have  gained 
eyesight,  you  must  accept  the  miracle  or  deny  the 
fact.  He  owned  that  a  six  days'  Creation  could 
not  be  literally  maintained,  for  he  had  attended 
Buckland's  lectures ;  and  he  renounced  on  Rol- 
leston's  remonstrance  his  belief  in  a  simultaneous 
universal  deluge.  When  Darwin's  book  came  out, 
he  asked  Rolleston  whether  the  species  existing 
upon  the  globe  five  thousand  years  ago  might  not 
have  been  so  few  as  to  be  contained  in  an  Ark  of 
the  dimensions  given  in  Genesis.  "  I  would  not 
answer  him,"  said  Rolleston  in  his  blunt  way ;  "  I 
knew  he  would  quote  me  as  an  authority."  I 
pressed  him  once  to  say  whether,  in  his  opinion, 
morality  without  faith  or  faith  without  morality 
were  the  more  hopeful  state.  He  did  not  like  my 
way  of  putting  it,  and  fenced  with  the  question  for 
a  time,  giving  the  preference  at  last  to  faith  without 
morality,  but  owning  his  verdict  to  be  paradoxical, 
and  laughing  heartily  when  I  reminded  him  of  the 
sound  Churchman  in  Boswell's  "  Johnson,"1  who 
never  entered  church,  but  never  passed  the  door 
without  pulling  off  his  hat.  I  quoted  a  recent 
Charge  by  Bishop  Blomfield  containing  strong 

1  "Boswell,"  vol.  ii.  p.  195  ;  ed.  1835.  "Campbell  is  a  good 
man,  a  pious  man  ;  I  am  afraid  he  has  not  been  in  the  inside 
of  a  church  for  many  years,  but  he  never  passes  a  church 
without  pulling  off  his  hat.  This  shows  that  he  has  good 


doctrinal  statements.  He  said  that  he  had  not 
read  and  should  not  read  it :  "  He  has  been  a 
Bishop  twenty  years,  has  given,  they  say,  eight 
hours  a  day  to  the  merely  mechanical  work  of  his 
diocese ;  what  time  has  he  had  to  read,  or  what  is 
his  opinion  worth  on  questions  of  theology  or 
doctrine  ? "  The  ritualistic  practices  just  begin- 
ning to  appear  he  regarded  with  distaste,  as  pre- 
sumptuous and  mistaken ;  his  strong  disapproba- 
tion of  their  later  developments  is  recorded  in  a 
recent  "Life  of  Goulburn."  We  called  upon  an 
adjacent  rector,  who  showed  us  proudly  as  a 
virtutis  opus  his  newly  made  reredos  surmounted 
by  a  large  cross,  admitting  that  in  consequence 
of  its  erection  several  parishioners  had  ceased  to 
attend  the  service.  Pusey  said  to  me  as  we  drove 
away,  "  I  would  never  put  up  a  cross  in  any 
church,  feeling  certain  that  it  would  offend  some 
one."  Alluding  once  to  his  own  alleged  hetero- 
doxy, he  challenged  us  to  find  any  rule  of  the 
Church  which  he  had  ever  broken.  Rubric  in 
hand,  we  catechised  him,  but  he  stood  the  test, 
owning  indeed  that  he  always  stayed  away  from 
the  Gunpowder  Plot  Service,  but  refusing  to  re- 
cognise a  Royal  Warrant  as  canonical. 

He  had  no  familiar  acquaintance  with  our  older 
English  classics  ;  a  quotation  from  Cowley,  Dryden, 
Pope,  seemed  to  touch  in  him  a  latent  string,  but 
awoke  no  literary  association ;  for  Dr.  Johnson 
indeed  he  professed  loyal  admiration — less,  I  fancy, 
for  the  author  of  "  Rasselas,"  the  "  Rambler,"  and 
the  "  Lives,"  than  for  the  scrupulous  High  Church- 
man who  drank  his  tea  without  milk  and  ate  his 


buns  without  currants  upon  Good  Friday.  Of 
modern  publications  not  theological  he  read  ab- 
solutely nothing ;  one  of  his  nieces  pressed  on  him 
for  a  railway  journey  Miss  Yonge's  "  Heartsease," 
just  then  in  vogue,  but  he  could  not  get  through 
the  opening  chapter ;  his  sympathies,  all  wide  as 
they  were,  failed  to  vibrate  to  the  poor  child-bride's 
sorrows.  He  was  a  staunch  defender  of  absent 
friends ;  when  a  visitor  spoke  disparagingly  once 
of  Dr.  J.  M.  Neale,  another  time  of  Dean  Lake,  he 
flared  up  on  their  behalf  with  an  energy  for  which 
he  afterwards  apologised.  For  freethinkers  he  had 
the  deepest  repugnance ;  his  outbreak  when  I 
quoted  admiringly  Fronde's  fine  paper  on  the 
Study  of  History  in  the  ll  Oxford  Essays "  rever- 
berated through  the  family.  He  seemed  to  feel 
something  like  alarm  in  the  presence  of  neologian 
writers,  English  or  German,  as  of  antagonists 
whose  arrows  threatened  weak  points  in  his 
armour.  He  recounted  to  me  the  curiosity 
first,  the  later  uneasiness,  with  which,  while  in 
Germany,  he  listened  to  the  Professors'  lectures. 
I  told  him  how  Shuttleworth,  when  at  Holland 
House  as  tutor  and  engaged  in  controversy  with 
Allen,  "Lady  Holland's  infidel,"  demolished  his 
attacks  on  prophecy  by  citation  of  Isaiah  liii.  "The 
Germans,"  he  said  with  a  groan,  "  would  have 
shown  Allen  how  to  meet  it."  The  close  of  his 
life  was  darkened  by  this  cloud.  Newman  found 
that  Rome,  failing  him  on  many  points,  could  at 
least  shelter  him  from  Rationalism.  To  Pusey  it 
was  a  Brocken  spectre,  dilating  in  proportion  as 
he  approached  it.  Sir  Henry  Acland  has  told  for 


us  the  dismay  with  which  he  looked  upon  its  ad- 
vance ;  has  recorded,  too,  the  adapted  line  from 

"  Nil  desperandum,  Christo  duce  et  auspice  Christo," 

which,  amid  all  his  anxieties,  summarised  his  abiding 

He  preached  every  Sunday  at  Pusey  in  the  little 
church,  a  tonic  change  from  the  ordinary  occupant 
of  the  pulpit,  whose  homilies  Mr.  Pusey  pronounced 
to  be  Blair  infused  with  Epictetus.  His  sermons 
there  gave  the  same  overwhelming  impression  of 
personal  saintliness  as  breathed  from  them  in  the 
Christchurch  pulpit ;  but  the  language  was  labo- 
riously simple,  arresting  the  crass  Berkshire  rustics 
by  pithy  epigrams  which  fastened  on  their  minds, 
and  which  some  of  them  used  afterwards  to  repeat 
to  me  :  "  Find  out  your  strong  point  and  make  the 
most  of  it "  ;  "  Seek  heaven  because  it  is  God's 
throne,  not  because  it  is  an  escape  from  hell "  ; 
"  Holiness  consists  not  in  doing  uncommon  things, 
but  in  doing  common  things  in  an  uncommon 
way."  Of  his  obiter  dicta  I  recall  the  following  : 
"  In  the  study  of  theology  books  are  better  than 
topics."  "  The  best  ecclesiastical  history  is 
Fleury's."  "  It  is  a  good  thing  to  know  a  large 
number  of  minds."  "A  carefully  written  sermon 
or  essay  cannot  be  recast  or  expanded  ;  its  in- 
tegrity is  marred  by  reconstruction."  "  Discon- 
tinue fasting  as  dangerous  if  you  feel  exhausted 
on  the  following  day."  (His  own  regular  Friday 
meal  was  a  poached  egg  on  spinach,  with  one  glass 
of  port.)  "  Bennett,  of  St.  Paul's,  Knightsbridge,  is 


the  only  man  I  know  who  went  abroad  with  waver- 
ing Anglican  allegiance  and  returned  an  English 
Churchman."  "  Hooker's  chapter  on  the  Eucharist 
is  disappointing ;  he  shirks  the  logical  sequence 
of  his  grand  argument  on  the  Incarnation  and 
passes  off  into  mere  pious  rhapsody."  "  Luther 
had  an  irreverent  mind;  he  says  that  if  God  had 
pleased  to  make  a  bit  of  stick  the  Sacrament 
He  might  have  done  so."  I  failed  to  see  the 
irreverence,  but  he  spoke  the  words  whisperingly 
and  with  a  shudder,  and  I  could  not  question 
him  further. 

The  year  1855,  with  which  these  experiences  end, 
marked  a  transitional  period  in  his  life-history.  In 
the  autumn  of  the  previous  year,  greatly  to  his 
surprise,  he  was  elected  at  the  head  of  the  Profes- 
soriate a  member  of  the  enlarged  Hebdomadal 
Council  under  the  new  Act,  was  fascinated  at  their 
first  encounter,  as  he  told  me,  by  the  dashing  talk 
and  practical  energy  of  his  colleague,  Jeune,  be- 
came, I  think,  for  a  time  a  weapon  in  that  clever 
tactician's  hands,  at  any  rate  came  out  of  his  Achilles 
tent  and  flung  himself  with  a  keen  sense  of  free- 
dom and  enjoyment  into  active  legislation  for  the 
liberated  University.  Mark  Pattison  used  to  say 
that  no  man  of  superior  intellect  and  character 
could  be  yoked  unequally  to  the  machine  of  public 
"business"  without  moral  and  mental  deteriora- 
tion; and  certainly  the  Pusey  of  later  years,  as 
useful  for  aught  I  know,  was  not  so  great  as  the 
imposing  hierophant  of  the  Forties.  He  is  handled 
saucily  in  the  clever  fragment  which  sprang  from 
young  Balliol  about  1856  : — 


"  Now,  stilled  the  various  labours  of  the  day, 
Student  and  Don  the  drowsy  charm  obey. 
E'en  Pusey  owns  the  soft  approach  of  sleep, 
Long  as  his  sermons,  as  his  learning  deep  ; 
Peaceful  he  rests  from  Hebraistic  lore, 
And  finds  that  calm  he  gave  so  oft  before."  * 

The  lines  are  quite  good-humoured,  but  no  longer 
reverential ;  they  could  not  have  been  written  ten 
years  earlier.  I  had  known  him  as  a  devout 
Casaubon,  unconscious  of  contemporary  triviali- 
ties, aloof  in  patristic  reverie  and  in  spiritual 
pathology.  That  at  any  rate  he  ceased  to  be; 
these  earlier  reminiscences,  nowhere  hitherto  re- 
corded, indicate  the  close  of  a  chapter  in  his  inner 
as  in  his  outer  life. 

But  the  chronicles  of  Christchurch  are  not  all  in 
canon  type.  In  my  bookcase  is  a  finely  bound 
Delphin  Virgil,  a  school  prize  with  the  legend 
Honoris  Causa  on  its  cover,  which  belonged  to 
Charles  Atterbury,  Senior  Student,  and  Vicar  of 
St.  Mary  Magdalen.  A  well-bred  gentleman,  a 
finished  scholar,  a  devoutly  efficient  pastor,  he 
was  also  an  enthusiastic  whip,  never  so  happy 
as  when  handling  Costar's  thoroughbreds.  He 
was  destined,  like  Pope's  Cobham,  to  feel  his 
ruling  passion  strong  in  death  :  while  driving  the 
Birmingham  coach  he  was  upset  and  killed.  The 
text  of  his  sermon  on  the  Sunday  before  had  been 
"  Set  thine  house  in  order ;  for  thou  shalt  die,  and 
not  live." 

In  the  Thirties  Liddell  strode  the  quadrangles, 
already  magnificent  in  presence,  less  superbly 

1  Appendix  I. 



Olympian  than  he  afterwards  became ;  I  think 
Westminster  saw  the  meridian  of  his  personal 
beauty.  Sweeping  into  the  Abbey  with  his  boys 
on  a  Sunday  afternoon,  he  belittled  and  uglified 
all  the  surpliced  dignitaries  around  him ;  venerable 
to  the  last,  he  yet  made  one  rejoice  that  the  gods 
do  not  grow  old.  "  None  knew/'  wrote  to  me  at 
his  death  one  of  his  most  distinguished  colleagues — 

"None  knew  how  great  Liddell  was.  I  rather  hope  they 
will  not  have  his  Life  written.  Only  those  who  worked  with 
him  could  tell  what  a  depth  of  tenderness  and  generosity 
there  was  in  him.  He  was  strangled  by  the  Don,  and  spent 
his  great  powers  on  the  Dictionary.  Do  the  greatest  of  men 
achieve  more  than  one-tenth  of  their  powers?" 

The  Life  has  been  written,  and  we  may  be  grateful 
for  it.  It  has  set  him  right  with  a  half-appreciating 
world  ;  has  taught  those  who  needed  to  be  informed 
that  beneath  the  stern,  reserved,  austere  outside  lay  a 
man  humble,  reverent,  tender-hearted  ;  his  severity 
straight-forwardness,  his  hauteur  shyness,  his  re- 
ticence born  of  the  strong  self-restraint  which 
guarded  all  utterances  by  exactest  truth,  his  Stoi- 
cism like  that  of  the  Roman  Aurelius,  like  that 
of  the  Hebrew  Preacher — "  death  so  dark,  and 
all  dies ;  love  it  before  it  dies ;  love  it  because 
it  dies ;  fear  God,  love  one  another,  this  is  the 
whole  of  man."  The  cathedral  which  he  beauti- 
fied, the  University  which  he  helped  to  reform, 
the  College  whose  intellectual  and  moral  strain 
he  raised,  will  not  behold  a  nobler  man. 

Of  Christchurch,  too,  his  friend  of  many  years, 
Max  Miiller,  was  an  adopted  son.  I  recall  the 
black-haired  slight  young  foreigner  in  1847,  or 


thereabouts,  known  first  as  a  pianist  in  Oxford 
drawing-rooms,  whose  inmates  ceased  their  chatter 
at  his  brilliant  touch.  I  remember  the  contest  for 
the  Sanskrit  Professorship,  wherein  I  voted,  and 
as  far  as  I  could  worked  for  him ;  an  inferior 
candidate  being  preferred  before  him,  first  because 
Max  was  a  "  Germaniser,"  secondly  because  a  friend 
of  Bunsen  must  of  necessity  be  heretical,  thirdly 
because  it  was  unpatriotic  to  confer  an  English 
Chair  on  any  but  an  Englishman.  The  horror  of 
everything  German  was  of  very  ancient  date.  Old 
Tatham  of  Lincoln,  in  his  famous  two-and-a-half- 
hour  sermon  on  the  Three  Heavenly  Witnesses, 
wished  "all  the  Jarman  critics  at  the  bottom  of 
the  Jarman  Ocean."  The  sermon  ended  thus  : 
"The  further  elucidation  of  this  subject  I  leave 
to  those  learned  Doctors  and  dignitaries  whom  I 
see  before  me  ;  who,  receiving  large  emoluments  for 
doing  little,  are  content  with  doing  less.  And  now, 
&c."  I  attended  his  stimulating  philological  lectures  ; 
learning  from  his  lips  the  then  novel  doctrine  of  the 
Aryan  migrations  and  the  rationale  of  Greek  myths  : 
the  charm  of  his  delivery  heightened  by  a  few  Ger- 
manisms of  pronunciation  and  terminology  ;  moost 
for  "must,"  dixonary  for  "vocabulary."  He  con- 
sulted me  later  about  two  matters  in  which,  strange 
to  say,  I  was  better  informed  than  he,  the  art  of 
budding  roses  and  the  conduct  of  marine  aquaria. 
He  watched  me  one  day  in  my  garden  putting  in 
some  buds,  and  tried  his  hand ;  but  gave  it  up 
presently,  saying :  "  While  you  are  budding  a 
dozen  standards  I  can  earn  .£5  by  writing  an 
article."  I  was  his  guest  sometimes  in  his  pretty 


home  opposite  the  Magdalen  elms,  where  played 
Deichmann — 

"  Whose  bowing  seemed  made 
For  a  hand  with  a  jewel," 

where  Jenny  Lind  warbled,  Charles  Kingsley 
stammered  in  impassioned  tete-d-tete.  I  read  with 
delight  some  years  ago  his  "Auld  Lang  Syne," 
pasting  into  it  an  1860  portrait  of  his  then  clear- 
cut  face,  as  a  corrective  to  the  more  commonplace 
outlines  of  the  elderly  presentment,  which,  hardly 
suiting  the  title,  decorates  the  frontispiece  of  his 

As  I  think  of  him  in  his  earlier  musical  Oxford 
days,  there  comes  before  me  a  more  wonderful 
pianist,  who  had  taken  his  degree,  but  was  still 
resident  at  Christchurch,  when  Max  Miiller  first 
appeared.  Few  now  remember  Sir  Frederick 
Ouseley's  playing  at  the  amateur  concerts  in  the 
earlier  Forties  ;  the  slight  form  and  dark  foreign  face, 
the  prolonged  rubbing  and  twisting  of  the  mobile 
hands  before  they  were  placed  upon  the  instru- 
ment ;  the  large,  prominent,  opal  eyes,  in  fine  frenzy 
rolling  over  the  audience  as  the  piece  went  on,  the 
executant  brilliancy  of  the  marvellous  performance, 
with  constructive  development  and  contrapuntal 
skill  which  the  highest  English  adepts  professed 
themselves  unable  to  emulate.  Like  Handel,  Men- 
delssohn, Mozart,  he  was  born  a  musical  prodigy ; 
but  he  lacked  serious  training ;  the  early  golden 
years  were  wasted  by  his  relatives  in  petting,  not 
instructing,  him  ;  Greek  and  Latin,  which  he  hated, 
were  forced  upon  him ;  a  clerical  career  and 


From  a  Photograph  taken  about  1856 


ritualistic  excitements  distracted  him.  Even  so,  he 
was  nothing  short  of  a  very  great  musician.  He 
was  probably — there  is  wealth  of  competent  con- 
sensus in  the  verdict — one  of  the  greatest  extem- 
pore players  who  ever  lived.  Often,  in  days  of 
yore,  have  I  stood  amongst  a  group  round  his 
piano  challenging  him  to  improvise.  He  always 
asked  for  a  subject.  Some  man  would  supply  a 
theme,  perhaps  intentionally  intricate.  In  a  few 
moments  he  would  begin,  and  the  piece  would 
grow  under  his  hand  with  a  wealth  of  resource,  a 
command  of  technical  device,  a  fertility  of  ima- 
gination, and  a  skilful  elaboration  of  complicated 

"  Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony —  " 

which  raised  it  to  the  rank  of  a  great  classical 
masterpiece.  His  knowledge  of  the  history  of 
music  was  unique  ;  his  library,  finely  equipped  in 
other  departments  of  literature,  inherited  from  his 
father,  contained  not  only  endless  autograph  and 
unpublished  scores,  but  several  hundred  works  on 
music  in  many  languages,  all  of  which,  an  accom- 
plished linguist,  he  had  read  and  mastered.  His 
musical  degree  and  his  acceptance  of  the  Professor- 
ship were  looked  upon  by  the  Dons  as  ignomini- 
ous condescensions;  though  old  Gaisford  loyally 
attended  the  performance  in  the  Theatre  of  his 
Mus.Doc.  exercise,  the  oratorio  of  "  Polycarp,"  in 
which  his  friend  Madame  Dolby  sang  the  sweet 
contralto  solos.  As  Professor  he  raised  to  a  very 
high  pitch  the  standard  of  graduate  qualification,  and 
delivered  erudite  lectures,  of  which  only  meagre 


reports  remain.  From  his  many  compositions  a 
couple  of  anthems  and  two  or  three  hymns  alone 
seem  likely  to  survive  ;  his  ultimate  repute  will, 
I  fear,  be  altogether  incommensurate  with  his  vast 

Apart  from  exceptional  men  like  these,  intel- 
lectually as  historically,  Christchurch  held  its  own. 
The  Common  Room  in  the  Thirties  contained 
seniors  such  as  Foster  Lloyd,  F.R.S.,  and  Political 
Economy  Professor ;  Robert  Hussey,  a  monument 
of  erudition,  not  yet  grimly  saturnine  as  he  became 
in  later  years ;  Jacob  Ley,  the  greatly  beloved,  who 
probably,  like  Dominie  Sampson,  "  evinced!  even 
from  his  cradle  an  uncommon  seriousness  of  dis- 
position." Of  the  juniors  were  Bode,  Hertford 
Scholar,  author  of  the  hymn  "O  Jesus,  I  have 
promised  "  ;  W.  E.  Jelf ;  Osborne  Gordon,  Ireland 
Scholar  and  Double  First;  Linwood,  Hertford, 
Ireland,  Craven  Scholar,  and,  a  little  later,  Kitchin, 
Double  First,  now  Dean  of  Durham.  Linwood 
was  nephew  to  the  once  celebrated  Miss  Linwood, 
whose  needlework  imitation  of  great  paintings  drew 
crowds  to  her  Exhibition  Rooms  in  Leicester 
Square.  He  is  known  to  the  present  generation  as 
compiler  of  the  "  Anthologia  Oxoniensis."  He  was 
a  rough,  shabby  fellow  when  I  remember  him, 
living  in  London,  and  coming  up  to  examine  in  the 
Schools,  where  he  used  to  scandalise  his  colleagues 
by  proposing  that  for  the  adjudication  of  Classes 
they  should  "  throw  into  the  fire  all  that  other 
rubbish,  and  go  by  the  Greek  Prose."  It  was  said 
of  him  that  somewhat  late  in  life,  reading  St.  Paul's 
Epistles  for  the  first  time,  and  asked  by  Gaisford 


what  he  thought  of  them,  he  answered  "that 
they  contained  a  good  deal  of  carious  matter, 
but  the  Greek  was  execrable." 

By  Jelf  hangs  a  tale.  He  was  younger  brother  to 
the  Canon,  an  accomplished  scholar,  author  of  a 
Greek  Grammar  which  furnished  to  English  students 
what  Matthias  had  achieved  for  Germans.  But  his 
reputation  rests  upon  the  historic  "Jelf  row"  of 
1843.  Proctor  in  that  year,  he  was  the  most 
unpopular  official  of  the  century,  beating  "  Lincoln 
Green"  and  Merton  Peters,  who  ranked  next  to 
him  in  odium.  He  seems  to  have  found  enjoyment 
in  what  Proctors  usually  hate,  the  punitive  side 
of  his  duty.  Dexterous  in  capturing,  offensive 
in  reprimanding,  venomous  in  chastising  his  victims, 
he  had  accumulated  against  himself  a  fund  of 
hatred  which  abode  its  time,  until  it  might  find 
relief  in  the  Saturnalia  of  Commemoration.  It 
happened  that  the  uproar  which  ensued  gave  voice 
to  a  duplex  querela ;  hostilities  were  rampant  in 
the  area  as  well  as  in  the  gallery  of  the  Theatre. 
The  young  lions  of  the  Newmania,  sore  from 
Pusey's  suspension  and  Isaac  Williams'  defeat,  and 
led  by  Lewis  of  Jesus  and  Jack  Morris  of  Exeter, 
chose  to  be  furious  at  the  presentation  of  a 
Unitarian,  the  American  Minister  Everett,  for 
an  honorary  D.C.L.  Early  in  the  morning  they 
called  on  the  Vice-Chancellor,  Wynter,  President 
of  St.  John's,  to  protest.  Wynter,  serene,  indif- 
ferent, handsome — "  St.  John's  Head  on  a  charger  " 
men  called  him  as  he  went  out  for  his  daily  ride — 
urged  that  Mr.  Everett  conformed  in  England ; 
that  honorary  degrees  had  no  reference  to  theo- 


logical  opinion  ;  would  not,  in  short,  withdraw  the 
distinguished  heretic.  So  finding  remonstrance 
vain,  the  angry  malcontents  attended  in  formidable 
numbers  to  non  placet  the  degree.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  smarting  undergraduates  had  sworn  a 
solemn  oath,  like  John  Barleycorn's  royal  foes, 
to  stop  all  proceedings  until  Jelf  was  driven  out 
of  the  Theatre.  From  his  first  appearance  in  the 
procession  the  yells  and  groans  went  on  without  a 
moment's  slackening.  In  dumb  show  the  Vice- 
Chancellor  opened  the  Convocation,  Garbett  de- 
claimed inaudible  his  Creweian  Oration,  Bliss 
presented  Everett,  who,  red-gowned,  unconscious, 
smiling,  took  his  seat  among  the  Doctors.  An 
opposing  Latin  speech  by  Marriott  and  a  volley 
of  non  placets  from  his  friends  were  imagined 
but  unheard  amid  the  din,  and  ignored  by  Wynter, 
who  at  the  expiration  of  an  hour  dissolved  the 
Convocation,  to  the  fury  of  the  Puseyites,  the 
triumph  of  the  gallery,  and,  so  all  believed,  to 
his  own  concealed  but  genuine  relief  from  a  very 
difficult  position.  After-protests  poured  in  upon 
him,  to  be  met  by  bland  assurances,  which  no 
one  credited,  but  no  one  could  disprove,  that  in  the 
ceaseless  uproar  he  had  not  heard  the  non  placets  ; 
that,  in  short,  factum  valuit,  the  thing  was  done. 
His  well-known  hostility  to  the  High  Churchmen 
added  poignancy  to  their  defeat :  when  soon  after- 
wards he  was  succeeded  as  Vice-Chancellor  by  Ben 
Symons,  one  of  them  said  "  Solvitur  acris  Hyems 
Grata  Vice"  Three  or  four  men  were  expelled ; 
amongst  them  Parnell,  a  Double  First  of  Wynter's 
own  College,  who  had  not  yet  put  on  his  gown,  and 


who,  according  to  the  testimony  of  those  who  sat 
near  him,  was  inconspicuous  if  not  innocent  in 
the  turmoil ;  while  the  posthumous  indignation 
of  the  M.A.'s  fizzled  out  in  the  appointment  of 
a  committee.  "So,"  says  the  Introduction  to  a 
recent  edition  of  "  Eothen,"  "  while  Everett  was 
obnoxious  to  the  Puseyites,  Jelf  was  obnoxious 
to  the  undergraduates ;  the  cannonade  of  the 
angry  youngsters  drowned  the  odium  of  the 
theological  malcontents ; 

"  Another  lion  gave  another  roar, 
And  the  first  lion  thought  the  last  a  bore." 

The  Tractarian  element  in  the  tumult  is  described 
in  a  richly  humorous  letter  to  Lord  Blachford 1  from 
Dean  Church,  himself  prominent  in  the  following 
year  as  interposing  with  Guillemard  of  Trinity  to 
crush  by  their  proctorial  non  placet  the  decree  against 
"Tract  90":  a  dramatic  incident  which  had  not 
occurred  during  the  entire  century,  except  when 
in  1836  the  measure  to  suspend  Hampden  was 
veto'd  by  Bayley  of  Pembroke  and  Reynolds  of 
Jesus.  I  possess  the  address  of  thanks  presented 
to  Church  and  Guillemard,  signed  by  about  six 
hundred  notable  graduates,  not  by  any  means 
confined  to  the  High  Church  party. 

The  memory  of  Osborne  Gordon  is,  I  fear, 
already  fading.  The  authors  of  the  "Life  of 
Stanley  "  think  that  "  some  few  readers  may  have 
met  with  his  Greek  lines  on  Chantrey's  children." 
I  should  hope  every  scholar  can  repeat  them — 
non  obtusa  adeo  gestamus  pectoral2  Less  known, 

1  "  Life  of  Dean  Church,"  p.  40.  2  Appendix  J. 


and  very  scarce,  are  his  "  Sapphics  on  the  Installa- 
tion of  Lord  Derby  as  Chancellor,"  a  parody  on 
Horace's  "  Quern  Virum."  x  With  solemn  irony 
he  glorifies  his  hero ;  lauds  him,  in  fiction  such 
as  Phoebus  loves,  a  consistent  Proteus,  skilled  to 
veil  base  thoughts  in  noble  words ;  recalls  in  a 
felicitous  stanza  his  savage  assault  on  smiling 
Bishop  Wilberforce  in  the  House  of  Lords ;  sneers 
at  the  tail  of  followers  brought  with  him  to  be 
decorated — "  sorry  wreck  of  a  defeated  crew,  to 
be  refitted  in  the  harbour  of  quiet  Isis."  Young 
men  and  maidens  in  the  Theatre  cheer  him  and 
them ;  with  malign  smile  the  country  looks  and 
listens.  I  know  not  what  fly  had  stung  him — 
what  motive  winged  and  pointed  a  shaft  so  keen  ; 
it  must  have  pierced  the  Chancellor's  embroidered 
panoply,  vulnerable  to  elegant  academic  taunts, 
though  impervious  to  vernacular  Parliamentary 

One  more  skit  let  me  be  permitted  to  recall, 
emanating  from  the  same  College,  partly  from 
the  same  pen.  In  1857  Dr.  Acland  went  with 
Dean  Liddell,  then  in  delicate  health,  to  Madeira. 
On  his  return  voyage  a  large  thunny  was  caught 
by  the  sailors,  rescued  when  the  ship  was  wrecked 
on  the  Dorsetshire  coast,  taken  to  Oxford  by  the 
Professor,  articulated  by  Charles  Robertson,  and 
mounted  in  the  Anatomy  School.  Brought  thence 
to  the  new  Museum  in  1860,  it  was  placed  in  the 
area,  with  a  somewhat  inflated  Latin  inscription 
on  Thunnus  quern  vides  affixed  to  its  handsome 
case.  Soon  appeared  a  sham  Congregation  notice, 
1  Appendix  K. 


announcing  a  statute  for  the  abrogation  of  the 
label  and  substituting  another,  Thunnus  quem  rides, 
a  line-upon-line  travesty  of  the  first;  as  derisively 
satirical  as  its  model  was  affectedly  complacent.1 
It  was  believed  to  have  been  rough-hewn  by  Lewis 
Carroll^  handed  round  the  Common  Room,  re- 
touched by  Gordon,  Bode,  and  Chaffers,  who 
happened  to  be  dining  as  Gordon's  guest :  a 
delightful  change  at  the  close,  eo-KeXereufl?;,  skele- 
tonised, to  e^KLS/jLcopevdrj,  Skidmoreised,  Skidmore 
having  constructed  the  supporting  iron  foliage  of 
the  area,  was  ascribed  to  Mr.  Prout,  who  is  still 
in  green  old  age  an  admired  ornament  of  "The 
House."  Would  that  we  had  more  of  Osborne 
Gordon !  Marshall  of  Christchurch  edited  a 
volume  of  his  sermons  with  an  inadequate 
Memoir.  Those  who  can  still  remember  that 
queer,  mocking  face  with  its  half-closed,  in- 
scrutable eyes  (he  was  known  as  "  the  debauched 
crow"),  and  who  knew  the  humour,  wisdom,  be- 
nignity, which  lay  behind  it,  are  fewer  every 
day — 

"  Slowly  we  disarray  ;  our  leaves  grow  few, 
Few  on  the  tree,  and  many  on  the  sod." 

He  is  a  memory  only,  and  will  some  day  cease 
to  be  that. 

A  recent  diarist  in  a  book  of  "  Memoirs  "  calls 
his  old  tutor  a  vulgarian  and  a  tuft-hunter.  Pro- 
bably Gordon  snubbed  him,  deservedly  no  doubt, 
but  forgetting  Shallow's  advice  to  Davy,  and  this 
is  his  revenge;  the  valet-de-chambre  was  no  hero. 

1  Appendix  L. 


He  was  accused  of  obsequiousness  to  "  Tufts." 
Polite  to  them  he  was,  and  they  were  fond  of  him. 
When  one  of  them  was  sent  down  in  disgrace,  he 
passed  Gordon  as  he  left  by  Canterbury  Gate. 
"  Sorry  to  leave  you,  Mr.  Gordon/'  he  said ;  "  I 
always  enjoyed  attending  your  lectures."  "Did 
you  really  ?  "  was  the  answer,  "  I  must  say  that  you 
showed  a  great  deal  of  self-denial."  A  conceited 
undergraduate  said  to  him  one  day  :  "  I  am  afraid, 
sir,  that  I  have  rather  a  contempt  for  Plato."  "  And 

/  am  afraid,  Mr. ,  that  your  contempt  has  not 

been  bred  by  familiarity." 

I  have  mentioned  Lewis  Carroll.  He  was  junior 
to  these  other  men,  and  has  been  fully  biogra- 
phised  since  his  death.  Of  course,  he  was  one  of 
the  sights  of  Oxford  :  strangers,  lady  strangers 
especially,  begged  their  lionising  friends  to  point 
out  Mr.  Dodgson,  and  were  disappointed  when 
they  saw  the  homely  figure  and  the  grave,  repellent 
face.  Except  to  little  girls,  he  was  not  an  alluring 
personage.  Austere,  shy,  precise,  absorbed  in 
mathematical  reverie,  watchfully  tenacious  of  his 
dignity,  stiffly  conservative  in  political,  theological, 
social  theory,  his  life  mapped  out  in  squares  like 
Alice's  landscape,  he  struck  discords  in  the  frank 
harmonious  College  camaraderie.  Away  from 
Oxford,  and  especially  in  home  life,  I  am  told  that 
he  was  cheery  and  would  unbend  himself.  The 
irreconcilable  dualism  of  his  exceptional  nature, 
incongruous  blend  of  extravagant  frolic  with  self- 
conscious  puritan  repression,  is  interesting  as  a 
psychological  study  now  that  he  is  gone,  but  cut 
him  off  while  living  from  all  except  the  "  little 


misses"  who  were  his  chosen  associates.  His 
passion  for  them  was  universal  and  undiscrimi- 
nating  ;  like  Miss  Snevellici's  papa,  he  loved  them 
every  one.  Yet  even  here  he  was  symmetrical 
and  rigid  ;  reaching  the  point  where  brook  and 
river  meet,  the  petted  loving  child  friend  was 
dropped,  abruptly,  remorselessly,  finally.  Perhaps 
it  was  just  as  well  :  probably  the  severance  was 
mutual ;  the  little  maids  put  away  childish  things, 
he  did  not :  to  their  maturer  interests  and  grown- 
up day-dreams  he  could  have  made  no  response  : 
better  to  cherish  the  recollection  unimpaired  than 
to  blur  it  by  later  consciousness  of  unsuitability ; 
to  think  of  him  as  they  think  of  nursery  books ; 
a  pleasant  memory,  laid  by  upon  their  shelves 
affectionately,  although  no  longer  read.  And  to 
the  few  who  loved  him  this  faithlessness,  as  some 
have  called  it,  seems  to  reveal  the  secret  of  his 
character.  He  was  what  German  Novalis  has 
called  a  "grown-up  child."  A  man  in  intellectual 
range,  severe  self-knowledge,  venturesome  imagina- 
tion, he  remained  a  child  in  frankness,  innocence, 
simplicity;  his  pedantry  cloaking  a  responsiveness 
which  shrank  from  coarser,  more  conventional, 
adult  contact,  yet  vibrated  to  the  spiritual  kinship 
of  little  ones,  still  radiant  with  the  visionary 
light  which  most  of  us  lose  all  too  soon,  but 
which  shone  on  him  through  life. 



"  Lordly  is  Christchurch,  with  its  walks  and  qiiadrangles  ; 
lovely  is  Merton,  as  it  were  the  sister  of  Christchurch,  and 
gracefully  dependent ;  New  College  is  majestic ;  All  Souls 
worthy  of  princes  y  but  Magdalen  alone  is  all  that  is  the 
charm  of  others,  compendious  in  itself  ;  yielding  only  a 
little  to  each  rival  in  particular,  but  in  the  whole  excelling 
them  all." — CLEVELAND  COXE. 

The  Most  Beautiful  of  Colleges— Dr.  Routh— His  Old  Young  Wife— 
His  Mania  for  Books — His  Friends — Some  Famous  Men  of 
Magdalen — New  College — Shuttleworth — Whately  and  Manning 
— The  Abingdon  Ball  and  the  Brigands  of  Bagley  Wood — 
Public  Orator  Crowe — Christopher  Erie — His  Sharp  Tongue — 
Lancelot  Lee— One  of  the  Detenus  of  1803 — Dr.  Nares— His 
Drollery  written  for  Miss  Horseman — Warden  Sewell. 

THE  "College  of  the  Lily"  pairs  naturally  with  its 
Mater  Pulchra,  New  College.  I  knew  Magdalen  in 
the  Thirties ;  the  rambling  Greyhound  Inn,  with 
large  glass-warehouse  adjoining,  on  the  site  of  the 
present  schoolroom  ;  the  trees,  tall  and  umbrageous 
then  as  they  are  not  to-day ;  the  choristers'  play- 
ground, in  front  of  which  used  to  pace  up  and 
down  the  Usher,  Lancaster  of  Queen's,  who  once 
enlivened  a  University  sermon  by  speaking  of 
Hampden  as  "that  atrocious  Professor."  I  recall 
the  noble  Inigo  Jones  gateway,  removed  early  in 
the  Forties  in  deference  to  the  Puginesque  craze 
which  had  just  then  set  in ;  Pugin's  erection  in  its 

turn,  prope  funeratus  arboris  ictu,  damaged   by  the 


From  the  Pickersgill  Portrait,  1851  (?) 


r~ii     , 


fall  of  a  vast  elm  branch,  and  looked  upon  as 
somewhat  paltry  by  a  succeeding  generation,  giving 
way  after  several  experiments  to  the  present  un- 
satisfying entrance. 

Architecturally,  Magdalen  is  to  other  Colleges 
what  Oxford  is  to  other  towns  and  cities.  Even 
at  New  College  we  miss  the  indescribable  charm  of 
its  Hall  and  Chapel ;  in  its  walks  and  grove  we 
have,  as  nowhere  else,  the  "hallowed  haunt"  of 
Milton  and  the  "  classic  ground  "  of  Addison.  No 
other  College  pretends  to  match  the  felicitous 
grouping  of  its  clustered  buildings ;  and  its  cam- 
panile dominating  the  whole  is  supreme  among  the 
third-pointed  towers  of  all  England.  Nowhere  else 
does  the  Numen  inest  so  inspire  and  enthral.  But 
its  prime  of  rarity  in  those  days  was  its  President, 
Dr.  Routh,  "of  olden  worth  the  lonely  leaf  and 
last"  ;  who,  born  in  1754,  was  in  the  later  Thirties 
past  fourscore,  and  was  to  live  into  his  hundredth 
year.  It  was  as  a  spectacle  that  he  excited  popular 
interest;  to  see  him  shuffle  into  Chapel  from  his 
lodgings  a  Sunday  crowd  assembled.  The  wig, 
with  trencher  cap  insecurely  poised  above  it,  the 
long  cassock,  ample  gown,  shorts  and  buckled 
shoes ;  the  bent  form,  pale  venerable  face,  enor- 
mous pendent  eyebrows,  generic  to  antique  por- 
traits in  Bodleian  gallery  or  College  Halls,  were 
here  to  be  seen  alive — 

"  Some  statue  you  would  swear 
Stepped  from  its  pedestal  to  take  the  air." 

After  1836  he  was  rarely  visible  in  the  streets,  but 
presided  at  College  Examinations,  and  dined  in 


Hall  on  Gaudy  days,  occupying  the  large  State 
Chair,  never  profaned  by  meaner  loins,  constructed 
from  the  immemorial  Magdalen  elm,  which,  much 
older  than  the  College,  fell  with  a  terrific  crash  in 
1789.  In  front  of  his  lodgings  stood  a  scarcely 
less  venerable  acacia  tree,  split  from  the  root  ori- 
ginally, and  divagating  in  three  mighty  stems,  of 
late  years  carefully  propped.  Once  while  he  was 
at  Tylehurst,  his  country  home,  word  was  sent  to 
him  Ithat  a  heavy  gale  had  blown  his  acacia  tree 
down  :  he  returned  a  peremptory  message  that  it 
should  be  put  up  again.  Put  up  it  was ;  the  Mag- 
dalen Dryads  owned  their  chief ;  it  lived,  and  long 
survived  him.  I  stood  for  a  Demyship  early  in  the 
Forties  ;  nominated,  according  to  the  custom  then 
prevalent,  by  Frank  Faber.  He  was  confined  to 
his  rooms  by  illness,  and  had  failed  to  comply  with 
some  essential  preliminary,  of  which  he  ought  to 
have  been  informed.  But — so  it  was  said — the  Vice- 
President,  with  the  Fellow  next  in  order,  to  whom 
Faber's  nomination,  if  forfeited,  would  lapse,  con- 
spired to  keep  it  from  the  invalid  ;  and  when  he 
was  carried  into  Hall  to  vote  for  me,  they  sprang 
the  objection  they  had  husbanded,  and  disqualified 
him.  I  went  in  for  viva  voce  immediately  after- 
wards, and  I  remember  how  old  Routh,  shaken  by 
the  contest,  wept  while  I  construed  to  him  the  lines 
from  the  Third  Book  of  the  "  Iliad,"  in  which 
Helen,  from  the  walls  of  Troy,  names  the  Grecian 
chiefs  below.  My  supplanter  was  a  Winchester  boy 
named  Wickham,  who  died  shortly  afterwards. 

Mrs.  Routh  was  as  noticeable  as  her  husband. 
She  was  born  in  the  year  of  his  election  to  the 


Presidency,  1791;  so  that  between  "her  dear  man," 

as  she  called  him,  and  herself — "that  crathy  old 

woman,"  as  he  occasionally  called  her — were  nearly 

forty  years.    We  are  told  that  she  three  times  asked 

him  to  marry  her  before  he  consented  ;  and  some 

of  his  love  verses  are  preserved,  resembling,  George 

Eliot  would  say,  the  cawings  of  an  amorous  rook. 

But  she  had  become  rapidly  and  prematurely  old  : 

with  strongly  marked  features,  a  large  moustache, 

and  a  profusion  of  grey  hair,  she  paraded  the  streets, 

a  spectral   figure,  in  a   little    chaise   drawn   by  a 

donkey  and  attended  by  a  hunchbacked  lad  named 

Cox.     "Woman,"  her  husband  used  to  proclaim, 

when  from  the  luncheon  table  he  saw  Cox  leading 

the  donkey  carriage  round,  "Woman,  the  ass  is  at 

the  door."     Meeting  me  as  a  boy,  she  sometimes 

used  to  take  me  in  to  lunch,  where  the  old  President, 

who  was   intimate  with   my  father,  talked   to   me 

good-naturedly,  questioned   me  about  my  school 

work ;  showed  me  one  day  the  scar  on  his  table 

which  had  been  left  by  Dr.   Parr's  tobacco  ;  and 

enjoyed  my  admiration  of  the  books  which  lined 

hall,  rooms,  staircase.    He  was  proud  of  possessing 

many  not   on  the   Bodleian  shelves.     To   himself 

and  to  Dr.  Bandinel  the  London  catalogues  were 

regularly    sent :    Bandinel    would    mark    off    the 

treasures  which  he  coveted  and  write  by  return  of 

post,  but  was  constantly  informed  that  the  books 

had  gone  to  Dr.  Routh.     One  day,  calling  at  Tegg's 

shop,  he  saw  the  boy  bring  in  a  pile  of  catalogues 

wet  from  the  press.     Now  is  my  time,  he  thought ; 

noted  some  sets  of  rare  books,  and  said,  "  I  will 

take  these  books  away  with  me."    The  shopman 



went  to  consult  his  chief.  "  I  am  very  sorry,  sir, 
but  they  are  all  bespoken  by  Dr.  Routh."  "  How 
can  that  be  ?  Are  not  the  catalogues  freshly 
printed  ?  "  "  Yes,  sir,  but  proofs  of  all  our  cata- 
logues are  sent  to  Dr.  Routh."  Dr.  Jacobson  was 
another  disappointed  rival ;  he  obtained  the  proofs, 
but  was  still  too  late  :  remonstrating  with  the  book- 
seller, he  was  told  that  while  he  wrote  for  the  books 
he  wanted,  the  President  sent  a  man  up  by  the 
early  coach  to  secure  and  bring  them  back.  The 
story  gives  delightful  point  to  the  generous  caution 
which  he  is  said  to  have  impressed  on  Jacobson  : 
"  Beware,  sir,  of  acquiring  the  habit  of  reading 
catalogues ;  you  will  never  get  any  good  from  it, 
and  it  will  consume  much  of  your  time." 

Old  Marshall  Hacker,  going  through  the  papers 
of  his  uncle,  W.  A.  Jenner,  found  a  bundle  of  slips 
on  which  Jenner,  a  Fellow  of  Magdalen,  had  for 
years,  after  leaving  Common  Room  in  the  evening, 
written  down  stories  told,  noteworthy  observations 
and  jokes,  many  of  them  from  Routh's  lips.  Some 
were  coarse  ;  and  Marshall  Hacker,  without  making 
any  selection,  burned  the  whole.  Herostratus  still 
walks  amongst  us. 

His  especial  friend  was  Dr.  Bliss ;  I  have  a 
letter  to  him  from  Routh,  sealed  with  his  favourite 
IX&T2  seal,  deploring  my  father's  death.  Bliss 
once  asked  him  to  say,  supposing  our  language* 
to  become  dead  to-morrow,  who  would  take  the 
classic  rank  in  English  which  Cicero  had  held  in 
Latin.  (t  I  think,  sir,  our  friend  Tom  Warton," 
he  replied  ;  an  answer  bespeaking  no  great  know- 
ledge of  older  English  Prose,  In  later  years 


Burgon,  fussy,  obsequious,  adulating,  hovered 
about  him.  Henry  Coxe,  an  accomplished  mimic, 
used  to  render  dialogues  between  the  two,  bringing 
out,  as  in  the  tl  always  verify  quotations,"  and  the 
recipe  for  theological  study,  the  absurdity  of  which 
Burgon's  narrative  is  all  unconscious.  He  much 
admired  ].  H.  Newman,  who  dedicated  to  him  his 
"  Lectures  on  Romanism  in  1837  "  ;  speaking  of  him 
always  as  "  that  clever  young  gentleman  of  Oriel." 
Having  come  to  Oxford  from  his  Suffolk  home  in 
1770,  he  was  a  mine  of  anecdote  as  to  the  remote  past; 
had  seen  two  undergraduates  hanged  for  highway 
robbery  on  the  gallows  which  ornamented  the 
corner  of  Long  Wall  near  Holywell  Church — the 
"church  by  the  gallows"  it  is  called  in  a  skit 
from  Anthony  Wood's  collection — remembered 
stopping  in  High  Street  to  gaze  on  Dr.  Johnson 
as  he  rolled  up  the  steps  into  University  College. 
One  of  his  aunts,  he  used  to  say,  had  known  a 
lady  who  saw  Charles  I.  in  Oxford.  He  died, 
so  John  Rigaud  averred,  and  so  Blagrave,  his 
>rother-in-law  and  man  of]  business  admitted, 
through  chagrin  at  the  fall  of  Russian  Securities, 
in  which  most  of  his  hoards  were  invested,  at  the 
time  of  the  Crimean  War — a  very  respectable 
way  of  breaking  one's  heart,  according  to  Mr. 
Dombey,  but  which  would  have  formed  an  anti- 
climax to  Burgon's  rhapsodies.  Rigaud  imitated  his 
voice  and  manner  with  startling  accuracy  ;  his  stories 
of  the  old  man  owed  their  force  to  this,  and  would 
be  pointless  written  down.  Rigaud  preserved  too 
his  queer  shoes  and  gown,  and  one  of  his  wigs; 
another  was  secured  by  Daubeny,  who  sent  it  to 


be  petrified  in  the  Knaresborough  Spring.  It 
would  have  been  indestructible  without  this  cal- 
cifying process  :  when  in  1860  a  grave  was  sunk 
in  New  College  antechapel  to  receive  the  remains 
of  Warden  Williams,  an  ancient  skeleton  was 
found  extended,  the  bones  partly  dissolved,  the 
wig  fresh  as  from  the  maker's  hands.  The  old 
man's  spectacles  passed  from  Bloxam  to  Rigaud, 
and  are  now  preserved  by  Dr.  Macray  of  the 

Of  the  Magdalen  Fellows  in  the  Thirties  I  have 
mentioned  Daubeny  ;  I  recall  also  Chambers,  riding 
from  Swerford  into  Oxford  in  a  broad-brimmed 
hat,  followed  by  a  pack  of  little  dogs  ;  and  Sibthorp, 
whose  oscillation  to  and  fro  between  the  English 
and  the  Roman  Church  were  viewed  as  comic 
rather  than  serious  at  a  time  when  "  'verts  "  had 
not  begun  to  come  upon  the  stage.  I  recall  Frank 
Faber,  a  kindly  careless  valetudinarian,  lecturing 
in  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  his  head  sheltered 
by  an  umbrella  from  every  gleam  of  sunshine. 
An  old  Fellow  of  the  College  used  to  relate  that, 
riding  once  out  of  Oxford,  and  resting  at  Shilling- 
ford  Inn,  he  was  told  that  Mr.  Faber  was  in  the 
house.  He  went  to  his  room,  and  found  him 
sitting  up  in  bed  with  an  umbrella  over  his  head. 
James  Mozley's  shy,  cold  outside  hid  a  genial 
nature  and  a  mind  of  rarest  power.  "Dick" 
Sewell  was  a  frank  Bohemian  ;  his  vigorous  New- 
digate  on  the  "Temple  of  Vesta"  was  said  to 
have  been  written  in  a  single  night.  A  barrister 
on  the  Western  circuit,  he  used  to  get  me  leave 
out  at  Winchester,  sending  me  to  dine  alone  at 


his  lodgings,  where  I  found  a  roast  fowl,  a  pint 
of  champagne,  a  novel,  and  a  tip.  Henderson's 
First  Class  in  1839  was  long  memorable  in  the 
history  of  the  Schools ;  he  became  Headmaster 
successively  of  Hatfield  Hall,  Durham ;  of  Vic- 
toria College,  Jersey ;  and  of  Leeds  Grammar 
School.  He  died,  as  Dean  of  Carlisle,  in  1905. 
Charles  Reade,  just  beginning  to  write  novels, 
would  beguile  acquaintances  into  his  ill-furnished 
rooms,  and  read  to  them  ad  nauseam  from  his 
latest  MS.  Bloxam,  Newman's  curate  at  Little- 
more,  incarnation  of  all  that  was  ideal  in  the 
College,  its  mediaevalism,  sentiment,  piety,  was  the 
first  man  to  appear  in  Oxford  wearing  the  long 
collarless  coat,  white  stock,  high  waistcoat,  which 
form  nowadays  the  inartistic  clerical  uniform. 
Like  his  better  known  brother  Matthew,  he  was 
a  laborious  antiquary,  and  compiled  a  Register 
of  the  Members  of  his  College  from  its  founda- 
tion. He  established  the  delightful  Christmas  Eve 
entertainment  in  the  College  Hall  which  has  been 
annual  now  for  fifty-eight  years.  Held  first  in  his 
own  rooms  as  a  treat  to  the  choristers,  then  in  the 
Summer  Common  Room,  it  came  in  1849  to  fill 
the  Hall  with  a  hundred  guests  or  more.  Hymns, 
carols,  parts  of  the  "  Messiah,"  were  sung  through 
the  evening ;  the  boys  were  feasted  at  the  high 
table,  the  visitors  waiting  upon  them,  and  eating 
Christmas  frumenty.  Then,  when  midnight  drew 
near,  a  hush  fell  on  the  assembly,  the  choir 
gathered  round  the  piano ;  twelve  o'clock  pealed 
from  the  tower,  and  as  the  last  stroke  ceased  to 
vibrate,  Pergolesi's  "Gloria"  rose  like  a  stream 


of  rich  distilled  perfumes,  and  sent  us  home  in 
tune  for  the  worship  as  well  as  for  the  festivity 
of  the  Christmas  Day.  I  am  told  that  the  gracious 
custom  still  abides,  to  keep  fresh  and  green  the 
memory  of  dear  old  Bloxam.  Of  the  remaining 
Fellows  I  will  say  no  more  than  that  they  were, 
for  the  most  part,  fruges  consumere  nati}  born  to  eat 
their  founder's  venison  and  drink  his  wine  ;  and 
justified  their  birthright  zealously.  Two  among 
them,  Whorwood  and  T.  H.  Newman,  claim  a 
kindly  though  certainly  not  a  reverential  notice. 
Whorwood  was  the  last  and  landless  descendant 
of  an  ancient  line,  which  had  owned  for  centuries 
the  wide  manors  of  Shotover  and  Headington. 
His  mother,  "Madame  Whorwood,"  a  stately  old 
lady  in  antique  dress,  lived  with  him  in  the  house 
overhanging  the  Cherwell  on  the  north  side  of 
Magdalen  Bridge ;  the  top  of  her  high  cap  usually 
visible  to  passers-by.  They  moved  afterwards  to 
a  house  in  the  High  Street,  over  which  her  an- 
cestral hatchment  was  suspended  when  she  died. 
He  was  a  fresh-coloured,  smooth-faced,  vivacious, 
whist-playing,  amiable  lounger.  Later  in  life  he 
took  the  College  living  of  Willoughby,  leading 
there  a  lonely,  melancholy  life,  cheated  and  ruled 
by  five  domestics,  whose  service  was  perfect  free- 
dom. Dining  once  in  his  old  College,  he  was 
boasting  of  their  docility  and  devotion  ;  Rigaud 
scribbled  and  handed  round  his  own  rendering 
of  the  facts — 

"  Sunt  mihi  quinque  domi  servi,  sunt  quinque  magistri  ; 
Quod  jubeo  faciunt,  quodque  volunt  jubeo  ; " 


Englished  promptly  by  Octavius  Ogle  into— 

"  Five  servants  I  have  whom  I  handsomely  pay, 
Five  masters  I  have  whom  I  always  obey. 
To  do  what  I  bid  them  they  never  refuse, 
For  I  bid  them  do  nothing  but  just  what  they  choose." 

Alas  !  The  human  butterfly  in  its  later  stages 
is  a  sight  more  cautionary  than  pleasing  ;  I  met 
poor  Whorwood  not  long  before  his  death,  pallid, 
weary,  corpulent ;  and  he  cried  as  we  talked  over 
old  times.  Newman  was  a  practical  joker ;  his 
rooms  overlooked  the  river,  and  he  sometimes 
fished  out  of  his  window.  The  men  coming  in 
from  Cowley  Marsh  cricket  and  constitutionals 
were  arrested  one  afternoon  to  see  him  struggling 
with  a  fish,  which  Sawell  announced  through  a 
speaking  trumpet  from  another  window  to  be  an 
enormous  pike.  Great  was  the  concourse,  pas- 
sionate the  excitement,  profuse  the  advice ;  till  at 
last  the  monster  was  hauled  up,  gaffed,  and  drawn 
in  at  the  window.  It  was  on  view  in  his  rooms 
ever  after,  ingeniously  constructed  of  cardboard 
overlaid  with  tinfoil.  He  was  not  related  to  the 
future  Cardinal ;  but  his  initials,  T.  H.  N.,  caused 
him  often  to  be  confounded  with,  and  to  receive 
letters  intended  for,  his  Oriel  namesake,  J.  H.  N.  ; 
and  their  handwriting  was  curiously  alike.  An 
accomplished  artist  and  connoisseur,  he  once,  by 
borrowing  the  Cardinal's  signature,  gained  access 
to  Claude's  Liber  Veritatis  at  Chatsworth — of 
course  in  the  absence  of  the  Duke,  who  would 
have  detected  him.  On  an  earlier  occasion,  having 
undertaken  to  preach  in  the  country,  he  secured 
by  the  false  initials  an  immense  congregation  ;  and 


delivered,  as  he  used  to  tell  the  story,  a  sermon 
on  the  "  Final  Conflagration  of  all  things/'  which 
terrified  some  into  fits.  Opening  one  day  a  letter 
mis-sent  to  himself,  he  found  it  to  be  from  a  pious 
spinster,  asking  for  a  subscription,  and  requesting 
an  autograph  copy  of  some  of  J.  H.  N.'s  beautiful 
verses,  to  be  inserted  in  her  album.  He  sent  the 
following  : — 

"My  name's  T.  H.  Newman  j 

And  sorely  grieved  I  am 
That,  like  an  orphaned  lamb, 
I  haven't  got  a  dam." 

From  Magdalen  I  pass  naturally  to  New  College, 
whence  it  lineally  sprang.  Its  Warden  was  Shuttle- 
worth,  close  friend  and  ally  of  the  "  Noetics,"  the 
only  Head  who  in  1834  had  courage  to  vote  for 
the  admission  of  Dissenters  to  the  University ; 
author  of  a  rather  dull  book  on  St.  Paul's  Epistles, 
but  a  wit,  raconteur,  caricaturist,  mimic.  When 
the  queer  cupola,  extant  and  inexplicable  still, 
was  made  to  surmount  the  Theatre,  he  wrote  to 
Whately — "  You  ask  for  news  :  I  have  one  item 
only  :  the  Radcliffe  has  kittened,  and  they  have 
perched  one  of  the  kittens  on  the  top  of  the 
Sheldonian."  He  invented  an  inclined  mahogany 
railroad,  still  in  use,  whereby  decanters  circula- 
ting at  the  horse-shoe  tables  in  the  Common  Room 
could  be  carried  automatically  across  the  interval 
of  the  fire-place.  A  Winchester  boy,  he  made  his 
mark  at  school  as  a  writer  of  burlesques  ;  two  of 
his  pieces,  "  Phaethon,"  and  the  "  Progress  of 
Learning,"  sent  up  in  1800  instead  of,  or  together 
with,  the  serious  poems  expected,  are  preserved 


in  the  "Carmina  Wiccamica."  *  Here  are  four 
lines  from  the  first,  where  the  steeds  discover 
that  Phaethon,  not  Phoebus,  sits  behind  them  — 

"  For  Horses,  Poets  all  agree, 
Have  common  sense  as  well  as  we  ; 
Nay,  Homer  tells  us  they  can  speak 
Not  only  common  sense,  but  Greek." 

The  second  opens  with  the  boy  leaving  home  — 

"  The  fatal  morn  arrives,  and  oh  ! 
To  school  the  blubbering  youth  must  go," 

carries  him  through  school,  college,  country  living, 
to  a  Deanery  ;  ends  with  the  predictive  lines  — 

"  As  erst  to  him,  O  heavenly  Maid, 
Learning,  to  me  impart  thy  aid  ; 

0  teach  my  feet  like  his  to  stray 
Along  Preferment's  flowery  way. 
And,  if  thy  hallowed  shrine  before 

1  still  thy  ready  aid  implore, 

Make  me,  O  Sphere-descended  Queen, 
A  Bishop,  or,  at  least,  a  Dean." 

Episcopal  aspirations  do  not  always  take  shape  at 
eighteen  years  old  ;  with  Shuttleworth  they  seem 
to  have  been  continuous  ;  Scott's  Homerics  satirise 
him  thirty-four  years  later,  as  refraining  from  the 
Peel  and  Wellington  contest,  in  order  to  maintain 
his  expectation  of  a  bishopric  from  the  Whigs  — 

'A.vdpCjv  5'  OVK  TjyeiTO  Trepi'/cXuros  ' 
(TT7J  5'  airavevdev  ewv, 

A  mitre  he  obtained  in  1840,  and  died  sixteen 
months  after  his  elevation.  On  going  down  to  his 
bishopric  at  Chichester,  he  was  warned  by  Whately 
against  Manning,  an  incumbent  in  his  diocese, 
1  Appendix  M. 


as  an  undoubted  "Tractite" — so  Whately  always 
called  them.  The  Archdeaconry  of  Chichester 
was  vacant,  the  appointment  in  the  new  Bishop's 
hands.  He  met  Manning  at  a  dinner-party,  was 
impressed  with  his  mien  and  talk,  and  they  sat 
together  afterwards  in  the  drawing-room  mutually 
charmed.  Manning  had  walked  from  no  great 
distance  ;  his  parsonage  lay  in  the  Bishop's  way 
home,  and  Shuttleworth  offered  him  a  seat  in  his 
carriage.  Set  down  at  his  own  door,  "  Good- 
night, my  lord,"  said  Manning ;  « Good-night, 
Mr.  Archdeacon,"  said  the  Bishop. 

His  Fellows  at  New  College,  as  at  Magdalen, 
were  curiously  unequal  in  merit  and  distinction.  A 
very  few,  "the  two  good  Duncans,"  Bandinel,  Tre- 
menheere,  Chief  Justice  Erie,  Archdeacon  Grant, 
George  Cox,  J.  E.  Sewell,  afterwards  Warden, 
William  Heathcote,  be  of  them  that  have  left  a 
name  behind  them  ;  the  rest  were  mostly  of  very 
common  clay  indeed.  Until  1838  the  College  had 
refused  to  undergo  the  public  examination  for 
degrees,  and  was  further  oppressed  by  the  incubus 
of  founder's  kin,  which  imposed  two  superannuated 
dunces  from  Winchester  every  year,  to  the  exclu- 
sion often  of  their  meritorious  seniors.  Two  cen- 
turies earlier  the  discrediting  aphorism,  "Golden 
scholars,  silver  bachelors,  leaden  masters,"  had  been 
popularly  applied  to  the  College  ;  and  in  1852  it  had 
fallen  so  low  that  the  undergraduates  petitioned  for 
out-college  tutors,  pleading  the  incompetence  of  the 
resident  staff.  A  wild  set  were  not  only  the  juniors 
but  the  seniors  far  into  the  Thirties.  More  than 
one  strange  scandal  I  could  recount,  of  a  sort 


which,  like  Horace's  gold,  are  best  placed  when 
unexhumed.  But  I  can  vouch  for  the  following 
frolic.  Some  men  were  going  to  the  Abingdon 
Ball ;  and  in  the  Common  Room  the  conversation 
turned  on  a  highway  robbery  recently  perpetrated 
near  Wheatley.  The  ball-goers  talked  valiantly  of 
their  own  courage,  contemptuously  of  brigand 
dangers;  their  fly  was  announced,  and  off  they 
drove.  Coming  home  they  were  stopped  in  a  dark 
part  of  Bagley  Wood  by  two  masked  men,  one  of 
whom  held  the  horses'  heads,  while  his  mate  pointed 
a  pistol  into  the  fly  with  the  conventional  highway- 
man's demand.  Meekly  our  gallant  travellers  sur- 
rendered money,  watches,  jewellery.  One  pleaded 
for  a  ring  which  had  belonged  to  his  old  mother  ; 
the  deceased  lady  was  consigned  to  Tartarus,  the 
ring  was  taken,  and  the  marauders  rode  away.  Great 
commiseration  was  shown  to  the  victims  when 
they  told  their  tale,  great  activity  displayed  by  the 
police  ;  until,  on  going  into  Hall  the  next  afternoon, 
they  saw  lying  in  a  heap  on  the  centre  of  the 
high  table  the  abstracted  valuables,  including  the 
maternal  ring,  while  mounting  guard  over  them 
was  a  broken  candlestick  which  had  done  duty  as 
a  pistol.  The  two  practical  jokers  had  ridden  to 
the  wood,  tied  their  horses  to  the  trees,  waited  for 
the  revellers,  and  played  the  wild  Prince  and  Poins. 
A  few  more  men  of  note  I  remember,  rari  nantes 
in  gurgite.  Public  Orator  Crowe  had  lately  passed 
away,  farmer-like,  uncouth,  wearing  a  long  cassock 
to  hide  his  leather  breeches,  but  a  fine  Latinist  with 
a  magniloquent  delivery  which  found  scope  each 
year  at  the  Encaenia.  The  neat  Latin  inscription 


on  Warden  Gauntlett's  monument  in  the  antechapel 
was  his  ;  I  possess  the  first  draft  in  his  handwriting, 
endorsed  by  Routh,  to  whom  he  had  submitted  it. 
He  was  known  to  the  outer  world  by  his  really  fine 
poem,  "  Lewesdon  Hill  "  ;  I  remember  "  Mad  " 
Hoskins,  the  squire  of  North  Perrott,  an  enthusiastic 
Wykehamist,  repeating  the  whole  of  it  as  we  rode 
together,  in  1846,  within  sight  of  that  "  proud 
rising."  His  father  was  a  humble  carpenter  at 
Winchester  ;  the  son,  grown  eminent,  was  standing 
by  the  west  door  of  the  Cathedral  in  conversation 
with  the  Dean  and  Warden,  when  the  father,  in 
working  dress,  his  rule  projecting  from  his  cor- 
duroys, came  by,  and  walked  aside  from  the  group 
in  modest  avoidance  of  recognition.  Crowe  saw 
him,  and  called  after  him  in  Hampshire  Doric, 
"  Here,  fayther,  if  thee  baint  ashamed  of  I,  I  baint 
ashamed  of  thee." 

Another  eccentric  of  the  Thirties,  Christopher 
Erie,  brother  to  the  Chief  Justice,  lived  till  long 
afterwards.  Like  most  old-fashioned  scholars  of 
an  era  when  philology  was  not,  he  knew  his  Greek 
and  Latin  books  by  heart,  pouring  out  apt  quota- 
tions with  the  broad  a  which  then  marked 
Wykehamists ;  was  a  proficient,  too,  in  Italian, 
French,  and  English  literature,  with  his  Dante  at 
his  fingers'  ends.  He  was  a  familiar  figure  at  the 
Athenaeum,  where  one  day  his  Bishop,  newly 
appointed  Sam  of  Oxford,  remonstrated  with  him — 
very  impertinently,  since  they  were  on  neutral 
ground — for  wearing  a  black  neckcloth.  Erie 
called  the  club  porter.  "  Porter,  do  you  know 
this  gentleman  ?  This  is  the  Bishop  of  Oxford. 



Get  me  half-a-dozen  white  ties,  and  bring  me  one 
whenever  this  gentleman  comes  into  the  club." 
His  living  was  in  the  part  of  Buckinghamshire 
colonised  by  Rothschilds — Jerusalem  the  Golden  it 
was  called — and  the  reigning  Baron  was  his  squire. 
It  was  Erie's  whim  to  dress  carelessly;  and  the 
plutocrat;  walking  one  day  with  a  large  party  and 
meeting  his  Rector  in  the  parish,  had  the  bad  taste 
to  handle  his  sleeve  and  say,  "  Rather  a  shabby 
coat,  parson,  isn't  it?"  Erie  held  it  up  to  him — 
"Will  you  buysh  ?  will  you  buysh  ? "  There 
ensued  an  exitus  Israel,  and  Erie  walked  on  chuck- 
ling and  victorious. 

Of  the  same  standing,  and  not  less  an  original, 
was  Lancelot  Lee,  who,  with  imposing  face  and 
figure,  strident  voice,  assumed  ferocity  of  manner, 
was  a  frequent  visitor  at  my  father's.  He  was  one 
of  the  Detenus,  Englishmen  seized  by  Napoleon 
in  1803,  and  incarcerated  till  his  fall  in  iSi^..1 
They  were  about  ten  thousand  in  number,  some 
previously  residents  in  France,  but  chiefly  visitors 
or  tourists.  They  included  noblemen  and  gentle- 
men, clergymen  and  academics  with  their  servants, 
workmen,  and  commercial  travellers.  All  were 
at  first  treated  as  prisoners  of  war;  but  this 
sentence  was  afterwards  limited  to  English  officers, 
the  rest  were  made  prisoners  on  parole,  and  lodged 
in  certain  fortified  towns.  Those  of  higher  rank, 
Lee  amongst  them,  were  confined  at  Verdun,  under 
the  charge  of  a  ruffianly  General  Wirion,  who 
treated  them  with  insolent  barbarity.  A  committee 
of  nine  gentlemen  was  formed  to  represent  the 
1  Page  24. 


prisoners  and  assist  the  poorer  captives,  and  of 
this  committee  Lee  was  one.  Liberated  at  the 
peace,  he  returned  to  New  College,  and  was 
presented  to  the  valuable  living  of  Wootton, 
near  Woodstock,  where  he  built  an  exceedingly 
handsome  parsonage,  and  ruled  his  people  as  a 
kindly  despot,  his  memory  lingering  among  them 
affectionately  long  after  his  death.  Coming  out 
of  church  one  day,  he  found  two  disreputable 
vagabonds  in  the  churchyard.  "  What  are  you 
doing  here  ? "  "  Oh,  sir,  we  are  seeking  the 
Lord."  "  Seeking  the  Lord,  are  you  ?  Do  you 
see  those  stocks  ?  That  is  where  the  Lord  will 
find  you,  if  you  stay  here  another  minute."  They 
did  not  stay.  Insulted  in  his  old  age  by  a  hulking 
ruffian,  the  terror  of  the  village,  he  gave  him  a 
tremendous  box  on  the  ear ;  and  the  bully,  who 
could  easily  have  thrashed  him,  slunk  off  cowed. 
The  degree  examination  at  New  College  was  a 
farce,  and  roused  his  never-failing  indignation. 
Traditions  still  survive  of  his  furious  protests,  and 
Warden  Gauntlett's  placid  insensibility,  at  each 
repetition  of  the  sham.  It  would  seem,  however, 
that  he  was  moved  by  moral  disgust  rather  than 
by  intellectual  ardour.  Old  William  Risley,  of 
Deddington,  used  to  relate  that  he  was  sitting  in 
Lee's  rooms  one  day  when  an  undergraduate  came 
in  with  a  puzzling  equation  and  a  request  for 
help.  "Turn  over  to  the  next  page,  sir."  "I  have 
done  so,  sir."  "Then  turn  over  to  the  next" — 
adding  aside  to  Risley  as  the  discomfited  inquirer 

shut  the  door,  tl  I  hate  your  d d  clever  fellows." 

He  went  once  with   Henry  Williams,  most  cere- 


monious  and  correct  of  men,  to  call  on  Miss 
Horseman,  the  delightful  old  vestal  earlier  men- 
tioned. She  was  out.  "Who  shall  I  say  called, 
sir  ?  "  "  Tell  her,"  in  a  voice  which  sounded  from 
the  High  to  Canterbury  gate,  "Tell  her  it  was 
the  man  she  ought  to  have  married  ! "  He  died 
a  bachelor  in  1841. 

Miss  Horseman's  name  suggests  another  well- 
known  figure  of  the  Thirties,  old  Dr.  Nares, 
Professor  of  Modern  History.  As  a  handsome 
young  Fellow  of  Merton,  long  before,  he  had 
acted  in  private  theatricals  at  Blenheim,  and  eloped 
with  Lady  Charlotte  Spencer  Churchill.  He  was 
believed  to  be  the  author  of  an  amusing  book, 
"  Thinks  I  to  Myself,"  which  lay  on  Miss  Horse- 
man's table,  but  it  was  also  attributed  to  his 
grandfather,  the  Rev.  Henry  Coles.  The  old  lady 
and  the  Professor  were  fast  friends,  and  she  used 
to  repeat  to  me  a  piece  of  clever  jargon  which 
he  once  extemporised  to  test  the  power  of  some 
bragging  memorist.  The  closing  sentence  dove- 
tails into  Foote's  similar  improvisation  of  the 
Piccalillies  and  the  Great  Panjandrum,1  the  con- 
fusion probably  due  to  her ;  'the  earlier  part  was, 
I  believe,  quite  new.  I  learned  it  from  the  old 
lady's  lips,  and  have  retained  it  unwritten  all 
these  years  in  the  receptacle  which  held  Count 
Smorltork's  materials  for  his  great  work  on 
England  : — 

"  There  was  a  shovel,  and  a  shackfok,  and  a  one-eyed  pikestaff, 
went  to  rob  a  rich  poor  man  of  the  head  of  a  herring,  the  brains 
of  a  sprat,  and  a  bushel  of  barley  meal.  So  he  got  up  in 

1  Appendix  N. 


the  morning.  'Wife,  we're  robbed/  says  he.  'You  lie,'  says 
she.  '  Tis  true,'  says  he  ;  '  we  must  saddle  the  brown  hen  and 
bridle  the  black  staff.'  So  off  they  rode  till  they  came  to  a 
long  wide  short  narrow  lane,  and  there  they  met  three  horse- 
nails  bleeding  at  both  nostrils.  So  they  sent  for  the  Hickmaid 
of  the  Hall ;  she,  being  a  rare  stinter  of  blood,  sent  them  word 
that  Mrs.  Jones  Tittymouse  Tattymouse  was  brought  to  bed  of 
a  mustard  spoon  and  was  very  ill,  and  so  she  couldn't  come. 
So  they  sent  the  boy  to  Mr.  Macklin's,  at  the  corner  of  St. 
Martin's  Lane,  for  some  plums  to  make  an  apple  pudding  with, 
but  desired  they  mightn't  be  wrapped  in  brown  paper,  since  the 
last  tasted  so  of  cabbage  leaves  they  couldn't  eat  them.  So 
the  baker's  boy  came  in  to  buy  a  penny  loaf ;  there  being  none, 
they  gave  him  a  farthing  candle  to  eat.  Presently  three  bears 
came  by,  and  one  popped  its  head  in,  and  said,  '  What,  bless 
me,  no  soap  ! '  So  the  head  fell  off  the  block,  and  beat  the 
powder  out  of  the  Lord  Chancellor's  wig ;  and  he  died,  and  she 
married  the  barber  ;  and  that's  the  way  that  Mrs.  Atkins  came 
to  lose  her  apple  dumpling." 

Ex  humili  potens  might  be  the  motto  of  New 
College  to-day ;  its  last  fifty-seven  years  exhibit 
a  resurrection  as  surprising  from  as  profound  a 
depth  as  is  figured  in  the  second  part  of  "  Faust." 
In  1850  the  College,  with  its  magnificent  equip- 
ment, large  revenues,  scholarly  Warden,  and 
distinguished  past,  had  become  a  hive  of  drones  ; 
its  residents  few,  its  mode  of  life  luxurious  and 
expensive,  its  teaching  bald  and  scanty.  Now,  in 
numbers  and  repute,  in  the  Schools  and  on  the  river, 
New  College  ranks  among  the  very  highest  Colleges. 
Transformation  began  with  the  Parliamentary 
Commission  of  1854.  It  struck  off  antiquated 
chains,  abolished  the  too  close  connection  with 
Winchester,  and  the  mischievous  anachronism  of 
founder's  kin,  increased  the  number  and  emoluments 
of  the  scholars.  The  younger  men,  growing  each 


year  in  numbers  and  importance,  and  imbued  with 
liberal  ideas,  carried  successive  reforms  in  spite  of 
obstruction  from  their  mediaeval  seniors.  The 
Warden,  Sewell,  elected  in  1860  on  the  death  of 
Dr.  Williams,  was  conservative  by  instinct  and  by 
habit,  with  the  maxim  u qnieta  non  movere"  ever 
on  his  lips.  His  distaste  for  the  reform  was  patent, 
but  his  respect  for  the  reformers  who  engineered 
it  was  unbounded ;  reconciled  to  the  measures 
by  the  men,  he  brought  'caution  and  sagacity  to 
their  assistance.  He  had  his  reward,  not  only  in 
their  respect  and  gratitude,  but  in  the  happiness 
which  his  new  position  ministered  to  a  very 
unusual  temperament.  "  Business,"  a  term  incar- 
nated more  often  than  defined,  was  the  breath  of 
his  nostrils  :  to  write  and  answer  letters  in  his 
beautiful  copperplate  hand,  to  sort  and  docket 
papers,  chronicle  collegiate  ephemera,  draw  up 
reports,  supervise  and  check  accounts — all  that  men 
are  wont  to  find  tedious  and  remit  to  secretaries 
—formed  his  being's  end  and  aim.  If  life-tasks 
such  as  these  are  not  heroic  in  themselves,  yet, 
discharged  faithfully  and  well,  they  make  possible 
the  pageantry  of  life  for  others  :  and  the  destiny 
which  selected  him,  an  unambitious  man,  to  rule 
an  ambitious  College,  exalted  his  peculiar  gifts, 
though  abstractedly  commonplace  and  ordinary, 
to  become  essential  factors  in  a  great  creation. 

And  if  his  life  was  happy,  so  also  his  death 
was  enviable.  In  expecting  his  approaching  re- 
tirement, we  all  dreaded  for  him  the  disruption  of  his 
daily  work,  his  exit  from  the  dull  back  study  in 
which  he  had  laboured  through  two-and-forty  years, 

M  " 


from  the  College  in  which  through  f our-and-seventy 
years  he  was  said  to  have  kept  every  term.  He 
passed  away  in  sleep,  the  sights  and  sounds  which 
had  made  the  enjoyment  of  his  life  present  to 
him  in  his  latest  waking  hours.  lt  In  such  a  death," 
says  Cicero  in  the  daintiest  of  his  treatises,  "  in  such 
a  death  there  is  neither  pain  nor  bitterness ;  but 
as  ripe  fruit  is  lightly  and  without  violence  loosened 
from  its  branch,  so  the  soul  of  such  departs 
ungrieving  from  the  body  wherein  its  life's  expe- 
rience hath  lain." 


"  Sumnii  enim  stmt  homines  tantum" 


Newman — His  Character  and  Career — Had  Arnold  been  at  Oxford 
in  his  Time  ! — Vain  Speculations — Newman's  Life  as  a  Catholic 
—Hawkins— Charles  Marriott— Eden— The  Efficacy  of  the 
Bible — George  Anthony  Denison — Tom  Hughes — A  "  Christian 
Chartist" — His  Radicalism — "Tom  Brown" — Oxford  in  Fiction 
— Charles  Neate  and  John  Bright — Neate,  Disraeli,  and  the 

A  HUNDRED  yards  from  Miss  Horseman's  door 
stands  Oriel  gateway.  What  a  procession  of 
phantoms  meets  the  inward  eye  as  I  approach  it ! 
White-haired  Provost  Hawkins,  Newman,  Frederick 
Rogers,  Charles  Marriott,  Eden,  Denison, " Donkey" 
Litton,  Low  Church  leader,  inconspicuous  in  spite 
of  his  Double  First,  of  his  recognised  ability  and 
his  two  powerful  volumes  on  "  Dogmatic  Theology/' 
Charles  Neate,  the  only  layman  of  the  group, 
mounting  his  horse  to  join  the  Berkshire  hounds. 
I  was  living  at  Iffley  during  Newman's  golden 
time ;  knew  his  mother  in  her  pretty  home  at 
Rosebank,  turned  afterwards  into  a  den  of  dis- 
orderly pupils  by  poor  James  Rumsey.  I  re- 
member the  rising  of  Littlemore  church,  first  among 

the  new  Gothic  edifices  which  the  "Movement" 



revived  in  England  ;  met  Newman  almost  daily 
striding  along  the  Oxford  Road,  with  large  head, 
prominent  nose,  tortoiseshell  spectacles,  emaciated 
but  ruddy  face,  spare  figure  whose  leanness  was 
exaggerated  by  the  close-fitting  tail-coat  then  worn. 
The  road  ceased  to  know  him  after  a  time  ;  he  had 
resigned  St.  Mary's,  and  was  monachising  with  a 
few  devotees  in  his  barn-like  Littlemore  retreat ; 
then,  in  1845,  Oxford  lost  him  finally — 

"  Interque  mserentes  amicos 
Egregius  properabat  exul ; " 

to  the  anguish  of  his  disciples  left  alone,  who  had 
made  him  their  pattern  to  live  and  to  die ;  to  the 
relief  of  many  more,  who  thought  that  Humanism 
and  Science  might  reassert  themselves  as  subject 
matter  of  education  against  the  polemic  which  had 
for  fifteen  years  forced  Oxford  back  into  the  barren 
word-war  of  the  seventeenth  century.  By  no 
means  a  recluse  like  Pusey,  but  gregarious,  hospi- 
table, seminarising,  he  was  always  surrounded  by 
disciples,  in  his  rooms,  in  Oriel  Common  Room,  in 
his  Littlemore  ccenobitium.  But  he  would  only 
associate  with  like-minded  men ;  lived,  says,  Isaac 
Williams,  with  persons  younger  than  himself,  who 
would  reflect  his  own  opinions ;  shrank  from 
healthy  friction  with  avowedly  opposed  beliefs,  broke 
off  relations  with  his  rationalist  brother  Francis, 
refused  to  see  Manning,  who  came  out  to  call  on 
him  at  Littlemore,  in  consequence  of  a  sermon  he 
had  preached  upon  the  Gunpowder  Plot.  And  so 
he  was  not,  and  is  not,  in  any  sense  a  mystery. 
While  the  cryptic  element  in  Pusey's  character  is 

ORIEL  181 

deepened  by  the  sacrilegious  half-revelations  of  his 
biographers,  Newman's  own  "  Apologia "  and  the 
numerous  tributes  of  his  friends  have  shed  a  flood 
of  fierce  light  upon  his  character.  If  Mozley's 
notices  of  the  "  Movement "  are  inaccurate  and 
flippant,  Pattison's  vindictive,  Palmer's  tedious, 
Williams's  jejune,  Denison's  irrelevant,  we  yet  learn 
something  of  him  from  them  all ;  while  the  entire 
moral  and  intellectual  epiphanies  both  of  the 
"  Movement "  and  the  man  are  portrayed  severally 
by  Church  and  Ward. 

Surveying  him  calmly  by  the  light  of  these^ 
now  that  his  great  name  and  his  enthralling 
presence  have  become  a  memory,  reading  too  the 
expositions  of  himself  which  flowed  so  rapidly 
from  his  pen  during  ten  momentous  years,  we 
seem  to  conceive  the  secret  at  once  of  his  ascend- 
ancy and  his  shipwreck.  It  was  unfortunate  for 
himself  and  others  that  he  should  have  reigned 
without  a  rival ;  his  only  opponents  on  the  spot, 
Faussett,  Golightly,  and  the  rest,  men  impares  con- 
gressi.  The  magic  of  his  personality,  the  rhetorical 
sweetness  of  his  sermons — he  used  to  say  that 
he  read  through  Mansfield  Park  every  year,  in 
order  to  perfect  and  preserve  his  style — their 
dialectic  vigour,  championship  of  implicit  faith  as 
against  evidential  reasoning,  contagious  radiance 
of  intense  conviction,  far  more  than  the  compel- 
ling suasion  of  his  arguments  and  theories,  drew 
all  men  after  him.  Had  there  been  in  Oxford  at 
the  time  a  commanding  representative  of  liberal 
theology,  with  corresponding  personal  attractive- 
ness, seducing  piety,  intellectual  equipment,  argu-i 


mentative  ability  and  promptitude ;  had,  for  in- 
stance, Arnold  been  resident  through  those  years 
at  Oriel,  not  at  Rugby,  two  camps  instead  of  one 
would  have  been  formed,  Delphi  would  have 
been  answered  by  Dodona ;  Lake  would  not  have 
been  overpowered,  Stanley  shaken,  less  by  the 
convincing  proofs  than  by  the  unconfronted 
monocracy  of  the  magnificent  system  which  en- 
veloped them  ;  free  play  would  have  been  proffered 
to  the  many  minds  which  came  regretfully  to 
avow  in  later  life  that  Newman  exercised  a  dis- 
turbing, not  a  quickening,  influence  on  their 
mental  and  religious  growth.  Nay,  who  can  tell 
what  consequences  might  not  have  issued  from 
the  immediate  and  continued  contact  of  the  two 
great  gladiators  themselves ;  how  many  diver- 
gences might  have  been  reconciled  by  the  mutual 
respect  and  the  recognition  of  fundamental  com- 
munity which  close  collision  must  have  produced 
on  two  so  noble  natures,  the  hurricane  of  opposing 
passion  hushed  by  the  still  small  voice  of  sym- 
pathy which  vibrates  between  all  good  men. 
Both  had  their  disabilities ;  both  lacked  prescience, 
viewing  the  present  with  a  short-sighted  intensity 
which  could  not  look  ahead  :  if  Arnold's  consti- 
tutional deficiency  was  unguardedness  and  exag- 
geration, Newman's  was  impatience  and  despair. 
We  see  his  limitations  clearly  now ;  of  temper, 
knowledge,  mental  discipline.  We  see  haste  to 
be  despondent  in  the  hero  of  his  valedictory  novel, 
more  nakedly  in  his  letters  to  his  sister,  until 
criticism  is  disarmed  by  their  agony  as  the  crisis 
^becomes  inevitable.!  That  his  secular  knowledge 


From  a  pen-and-ink  drawing,  1841 
Photographed  from  the  Print  by  Mrs.  Frieda  Girdlestone 

ORIEL  183 

was  limited  all  his  reviews  and  essays  show ; 
ignorant  of  German  as  we  know  him  to  have 
been,  the  historic  development  of  religious  reason 
with  its  underlying  unity  of  thought  lay  outside 
the  narrow  philosophical  basis  on  which  were 
reared  his  Anglican  conclusions ;  while  Arnold 
was  just  the  man,  invicem  prcebens  crura  sagittis, 
to  elucidate,  correct,  counterbalance,  these  flaws 
in  his  temperament  and  system.  And  if  will 
governed  and  narrowed  his  intellect,  so  did  im- 
patience dominate  his  piety  and  self-discipline. 
Austere  in  his  ideal  of  Christian  life  as  detached, 
ascetic,  painful,  he  saw  true  discipleship  only  in 
organised  and  formal  self-surrender,  such  as  he 
found  in  the  " regulars"  of  the  Roman  Church, 
but  missed  in  English  Protestantism.  A  convic- 
tion of  his  own  infallibility  underlies  his  whole 
mental  current ;  at  every  succeeding  stage  securus 
judicat,  non-acceptance  of  his  views  is  censurable 
in  individual  opponents,  theologically  disqualifying 
to  their  collective  "  note  of  Catholicity."  How  far 
years  might  aid  his  aspiration,  his  dreams  pass 
into  realities,  his  tests  of  Churchmanship  find 
fulfilment  in  Anglican  practice,  he  would  not 
wait  to  see.  For  Teutonic  slowness  of  appre- 
hension he  made  no  allowance,  confused  the 
dominant  instinct  of  startled  contemporaries  with 
the  mature  resultant  of  education  and  of  time. 
"  Had  he  lived  to-day,"  said  to  me  his  old  friend 
Hinds  Howell,  who  passed  away  but  now,  "had 
he  lived  to-day,  he  would  not  have  deserted  his 
Church."  Had  Heads  and  Bishops  tolerated 
"  Tract  90"  then,  he  might  have  died  a  Bishop 


or    a    Head ;    but,   as    Matthew   Arnold    sang    of 
Clough,  "he  could  not  wait  their  passing." 

These  are  matters  of  speculation ;  but  it  is 
curious  to  note  how,  as  a  fact,  from  the  moment 
of  his  secession  his  commanding  influence  ceased. 
The  movement  to  which  he  had  given  birth 
continued  as  we  know,  goes  on  to-day  as  a  de- 
generated mechanical  survival ;  that  it  should  have 
outlived  its  unique  leader  is  the  strongest  tribute 
to  his  creative  force.  On  the  Monday  morning 
when  he  left  Manuel  Johnson's  house  for  Oscott, 
he  died  to  his  old  associates,  to  the  University, 
to  the  public.  He  died  to  his  old  associates : 
Richmond's  water-colour  portrait  of  him  leant 
against  Pusey's  bookshelves ;  his  marble  bust, 
covered  with  a  veil — whether  from  dust  or  from 
reminiscences  I  never  dared  to  ask — stood  in 
Keble's  study ;  but  the  three  who  had  been  as 
one  in  spiritual  kinship  met  only,  after  many 
years,  to  find  in  an  evening  of  restrained  and 
painful  converse  that  the  topics  uppermost  in  the 
minds  of  all  were  topics  all  must  avoid,  walking 
in  the  house  of  God  as  adversaries,  not  as  friends. 
He  died  to  the  University  :  intellectual  and  edu- 
cational changes  pursued  one  another  like  surging 
waves  in  Oxford;  but  the  man  who  for  fifteen 
years  had  to  all  Europe  personated  Oxford  stood 
aloof  from  all,  unconsulted,  uninterposing,  because 
he  had  fallen  into  the  pit  himself  had  digged,  in 
narrowing  the  University  from  its  great  national, 
nay  worldwide,  function  to  the  limits  of  a  divinity 
school,  so  that,  an  alien  in  this  one  particular, 
he  became  an  alien  in  all.  And  as  from  his 



brethren  and  from  his  University,  so  from  the 
public  he  stood  separate.  The  days  of  a  Richelieu 
or  an  Alberoni  are  for  ever  past ;  but  that  a 
Roman  Cardinal  may  popularise  and  exalt  his 
Church  while  he  endears  himself  by  doing  battle 
in  English  public  life,  as  a  partisan  of  moral  re- 
form, a  pleader  for  social  righteousness,  a  cham- 
pion of  the  oppressed  and  poor  against  individual 
and  class  rapacity,  was  shown  in  a  series  of 
splendid  object  lessons  by  his  fellow  prelate,  a 
man  less  great,  less  single-minded,  incomparably  less 
sincere,  but  more  constitutionally  altruistic,  more 
observant  of  the  outer  world  in  which  he  lived. 
Once  only  in  the  forty  years  did  Newman  win 
an  audience  ranging  beyond  controversialists  and 
divines,  in  his  famous  "  Apologia,"  which  will  go 
down,  with  Blanco  White's  "  Autobiography," 
Froude's  " Nemesis  of  Faith,"  and  the  "Phases 
of  Faith"  of  his  own  brother  Francis,  as  graphic 
self-dissections  by  men  at  once  acutely  and 
intensely  organised  of  their  innermost  mental 
struggles  amid  distracting  spiritual  perplexities. 

To  what  task,  then,  in  all  these  years  did  New- 
man's powerful  and  once  restless  intellect  address 
itself  ?  No  longer  to  proselytism,  to  Biblical  criti- 
cism, to  ecclesiastical  reform ;  he  gave  to  old 
Anglican  friends  who  sought  him  out,  he  gave  to 
Denison  in  1879,  as  to  Stanley  in  1864,  the  impression 
of  a  tragic  sadness,  of  a  "  wasted  life,"  of  fearful- 
ness  in  the  presence  of  advancing  religious  thought 
and  speculation,  of  faded  ability  to  handle  questions 
with  which  formerly  he  was  the  first  to  grapple,  of 
the  piteously  recurring  cry  when  looking  beyond 


the  bars  of  his  Oratory  cage,  "  O,  my  mother  ! 
Why  dost  thou  leave  me  all  day  idle  in  the  market 
place?"1  He  bent  himself,  as  far  as  we  can  see, 
to  the  subjective  task  of  dealing  with  his  own  soul, 
working  out  harmony  in  his  inner  nature,  gaining 
certainty  as  to  his  relation  towards  the  Unseen, 
security  as  to  his  future  acceptance  in  the  indistinct 
domain  which  held  dead  Gerontius  expectant 
on  his  bed  of  sorrow.  He  has  long  since  solved 
the  riddle.  Yet,  let  us  admit  that  his  was  not  the 
highest  aim.  The  salvation  of  our  own  souls, 
the  abstraction  of  our  own  natures,  is  at  best  a 
Buddha  view  of  life  and  of  eternity :  the  con- 
sumption of  self  in  active  work  for  others,  the 
disregard  of  self  mounting  into  Apostolic  readiness 
to  be  "accursed  for  our  brethren's  sake,"  is  the 
lesson  of  the  life  of  Christ.  Deep  respect  is  due 
to  the  man  who  flung  away  friends,  position, 
influence,  in  loyalty  to  the  claim  of  conscience ; 
deep  sympathy  with  saintliness  is  an  ingredient 
in  all  highly  strung  spiritual  natures  ;  but  our  age 
more  than  any  calls  for  a  sword  rather  than 
a  prayer-carpet,  a  knight-errant  rather  than  an 
ascetic ;  a  Shaftesbury,  a  Damien,  a  Dolling; 
rather  than  a  Simeon  Stylites  battering  the  gates 
of  heaven,  however  high  his  pillar,  however  rapt 
his  insight,  however  vast  his  prospect, 
i  Oriel  reached  its  highest  eminence  under  Pro- 
vosts Eveleigh  and  Copleston ;  its  decline  began 
with  Hawkins.  In  1831  he  dismissed  his  three 
great  tutors,  Newman,  Robert  Wilberforce,  Froude 

1  "  Life  of  Dean  Stanley,"  ii.  342, 



whose  conception  of  their  duty  to  undergraduates  ' 
threatened  to  establish  brothers  near  the  throne. 
Mark  Pattison,  an  Oriel  undergraduate  at  the  time, 
and  Dean  Lake,  surveying  his  own  past  university 
life,  agreed  in  attributing  to  Hawkins  the  dethrone- 
ment of  Oriel  from  its  supremacy  among  Oxford 
Colleges.  Yet  he  was  no  mere  fussy  despot : 
Newman  in  his  "  Apologia  "  has  told  us  how  much 
he  owed  to  him  :  "  He  taught  me  to  weigh  my  words 
and  be  cautious  in  my  statements ;  he  led  me  to 
that  mode  of  limiting  and  clearing  my  sense  in  dis- 
cussion and  controversy  which  to  my  surprise  has 
since  been  considered  to  savour  of  the  polemic  of 
Rome."  That  he  should  have  been  preferred  above 
Keble  for  the  Headship  testifies  his  extraordinaryj 
reputation  in  the  College.  He  piqued  himself  on 
his  attitude  towards  the  undergraduates ;  took 
pains  to  know  them  individually,  interviewed 
each  freshman  privately  before  admitting  him  to 
the  Communion,  would  mitigate  in  Collections  the 
wrath  expressed  against  some  weak  brother  by  his 
tutor.  One  offence  he  could  not  overlook ;  you 
might  hope  for  leniency  in  minor  peccadilloes, 
but  you  must  not  smell  of  smoke.  I  fear  that  the 
youthful  temperament  is  more  alive  to  eccentricities 
than  to  kindness  ;  the  anecdotes  which  reach  me 
from  old  Orielites  of  long  ago  illustrate  chiefly  the 
comic  side  of  Hawkins'  rule.  He  used  to  give  one 
finger  to  a  Commoner,  the  whole  hand  to  a  Tuft ; 
and  was  somewhat  embarrassed  when  a  certain  man 

went  down  at  the  end  of  Term  as  Mr.  and 

returned  as  Lord of  .     An  Oriel  under- 
graduate took  to  preaching  in  St.  Ebbe's  slums. 


Hawkins  angrily  inhibited  him.  "But,  sir,  if  the 
Lord,  who  commanded  me  to  preach,  came  sud- 
denly to  judgment  now,  what  should  I  do  ?  "  tl  I," 
said  Hawkins,  "  will  take  the  whole  responsibility  of 
that  upon  myself."  A  man  begged  leave  to  absent 
himself  in  order  to  bury  his  uncle.  ''You  may 
go,"  was  the  reluctant  permission,  "but  I  wish  it 
had  been  a  nearer  relation."  In  his  high  and  dry 
churchmanship  he  was  impartially  bitter.  Of  the 
Newmania  he  always  spoke  in  his  exegetical  ser- 
mons as  "the  late  unhappy  movement."  When 
Irving's  son  obtained  a  First  Class  as  Scholar  of 
Balliol,  and  wished  to  stand  for  an  Oriel  Fellow- 
ship, the  Provost  refused  to  receive  his  name  unless 
he  would  formally  recant  his  father's  opinions. 
When  Jowett  was  bitten  by  a  Balliol  dog,  and  the 
quadruped  was  expelled  from  the  College,  the  joke 
went  round  the  University  that  Hawkins  had  re- 
ceived and  tenderly  entertained  it.  He  was  monarch 
of  the  old  Hebdomadal  Board,  and  was  amazed 
when  Lake,  as  Senior  Proctor,  had  the  temerity  to 
oppose  him.  I  remember  his  declaiming  once  in 
Congregation  on  the  "very  arduous  duties  of  a 
College  Head."  Thorold  Rogers  got  up  and  de- 
clared that  while  he  did  not  exactly  know  what 
the  Provost's  duties  were,  he  would  be  happy  to 
discharge  them  for  half  the  Provost's  salary.  Said 
Moral  Philosophy  Wilson,  who  was  sitting  by  me  : 
"  It  is  the  right  thing  to  say,  but  it  wanted  a  brigand 
to  say  it."  His  mind  lacked  largeness  :  a  master  of 
detail  he  was  deficient  in  grasp,  and  lived  amongst 
minutiae  till  his  accuracy  became  pettiness,  his 
conscientiousness  scrupulosity,  his  over  exactness 

ORIEL  189 

destructive  of  sentiment  and  warmth.     His  char- 
acter was  summarised  by  Charles  Neate  : 

"  His  est  Prepositus, 
Cunctis  oppositus ; 
Qui  magna  gerit, 
Et  tempus  terit, 
Dum  parva  quserit. 
Vir  reverendus — 
Sed— diligendus." 

Of  the  minora  sidera  which  revolved  round  New- 
man, Charles  Marriott,  fyCkaira'Tos  tflp€*fo*v,  was 
the  most  notable.  Saving  every  penny  for  chari- 
table uses,  he  dressed  like  a  beggar,  with  a  veil 
over  his  weak  eyes  in  summer  and  a  dark  green 
shade  in  winter,  draped  in  a  cloak  made  of  two  old 
M.A.  gowns  unequally  yoked  together.  He  often 
took  me  for  walks,  premising  always  that  he  had 
no  small  talk,  and  that  I  must  not  be  offended  if 
he  were  silent ;  but  it  was  easy  to  draw  him  out, 
and  he  would  discourse  with  a  kind  of  dry  enthu- 
siasm on  some  of  his  philanthropic  schemes  — 
economic,  social,  educational.  He  contributed 
several  hundred  pounds  to  a  co-operative  en- 
terprise, called  the  "  Universal  Purveyor."  The 
project  was  commercially  sound,  but  engineered 
by  a  sleek  French  scoundrel,  who  went  off  with 
all  poor  Marriott's  money.  I  met  this  adven- 
turer once  in  his  rooms  at  breakfast ;  the 
beast  gave  his  host  at  parting  what  he  called  a 
"  Christian  kiss  "  on  either  cheek.  He  turned  out 
to  be  a  spy  in  the  pay  of  Louis  Napoleon.  I  saw 
Marriott  in  his  last  illness,  visiting  him  at  Bon- 
church,  with  R.  F.  Wilson,  Keble's  curate  at  Amp 


field,  Newman's  friend  and  correspondent.  As  I 
entered  his  room  he  eagerly  greeted  me,  and  asked 
me  to  tell  him  the  cube  root  of  i.  His  brother 
John  hushed  him  with  a  "dear  Charles,"  and  he 
became  silent,  with  that  queer  tightening  of  the 
jaw  which  some  of  us  remember  well.  But  his 
half-paralysed  brain  was  still  active  and  his  sense 
of  fun  acute.  A  new  lodging  house,  ugly,  com- 
fortless, uninviting,  had  been  built  close  by ;  the 
owner  asked  John  Marriott  what  he  should  call 
it.  Charles  suggested  the  Redan — it  was  the  time 
of  our  repulse  before  Sebastopol  — "  because  it 
would  never  be  taken." 

Marriott  inherited  Newman's  rooms,  Eden  suc- 
ceeded to  his  parish.  Burgon  says  of  Eden  that 
he  strained  his  friends'  affection  by  conceit  and 
arrogance,  meaning  probably  that  he  now  and 
then  rapped  Burgon's  knuckles,  a  feat  which  might 
cover  a  multitude  of  sins.  To  my  recollection  he 
was  supremely  agreeable  in  society.  A  dinner- 
party would  be  assembled  in  some  stiff  Head's  or 
Professor's  house,  no  convivial  water  for  the  feet 
or  ointment  for  the  head  of  entering  guests,  Dons 
and  Donnas  dull  and  silent  in  the  drawing-room 
like  Wordsworth's  party  in  a  parlour  ;  when  Eden 
was  announced.  In  he  would  dart,  his  droll  hare- 
lipped  face  radiant  with  reaction  from  a  hard 
morning's  work  and  with  generous  prandial  ex- 
pectancy ;  would  snatch  a  book  from  the  table  or 
an  ornament  from  the  shelf,  as  text  for  a  vagrant 
cheery  disquisition  taking  in  all  the  solemn  mutes  in 
turn,  till  a  general  thaw  set  in,  and  we  went  down 
to  a  successful  dinner.  His  manner  in  church  was 

ORIEL  191 

quaint ;  the  matter  of  his  sermons  terse  and 
scholar-like,  but  the  manuscript  held  close  to  the 
candle  and  read  without  pretence  of  oratory,  the 
voice  coming  and  going  in  fitful  gusts  now  forte 
now  piano.  He  could  not  stand  coughers :  "  if 
worshippers  cannot  restrain  their  coughs,  they 
would  better  go  out,"  he  used  to  say  in  eager, 
snapping  tones.  He  had  a  great  horror,  too,  of 
casual  lookers-in,  migrants,  who  taste  successive 
churches  in  turn;  " Rovers  never  grow"  was  his 
frequent  dictum.  He  had  a  theory  that  the  letter 
of  the  Bible  carried  sacramental  efficacy,  that 
merely  to  read  it  to  a  worldling  or  a  reprobate 
would  drive  out  devils  and  sow  germinating  seeds. 
He  tried  it  once  on  poor  old  Miss  Horseman,  who 
was  in  his  parish  and  supposed  to  be  near  her  end. 
She  told  me  that  he  walked  into  her  drawing-room, 
said  no  word,  took  down  and  opened  her  big 
Bible,  read  it  to  her  for  half-an-hour,  and  again 
without  farewell  departed.  He,  of  course,  suc- 
ceeded only  in  alarming  and  disturbing  her  ;  to  a 
chapter  of  the  Bible  she  had  no  objection,  but 
her  formal  old-fashioned  breeding  was  outraged 
by  his  unceremonious  aggression.  When  he  left 
St.  Mary's  for  the  College  living  of  Aberford,  a 
large  congregation  came  to  hear  his  farewell  ser- 
mon, prepared  for  an  affecting  and  larmoyant  vale- 
diction. He  preached  on  some  ordinary  topic; 
then  shut  up  his  sermon  case  with  a  slap  :  "  The 
volume — of  the  book — of  my  ministry  among  you 
— is  closed.  It  is  sealed  up — and  will  be  opened 
at  the  Judgment  Day." 

Of  George  Anthony  Denison — picturesque  and 


exasperating,  eccentric  and  impracticable,  stormy 
petrel  in  every  row,  at  Oxford  as  at  Eton,  during 
sixty  years ;  restlessly  pugnacious  as  a  divine,  dis- 
appointingly irrelevant  as  a  writer ;  like  Sydney 
Smith  in  his  estimate  of  the  Church  as  a  social 
bulwark,  like  Newman  in  his  assumption  of  her 
historic  and  spiritual  claims — I  have  a  word  or  two 
to  say.  He  was  the  best  of  Hawkins'  Tutors ;  but 
Mark  Pattison,  who  attended  his  lectures,  speaks 
of  him  as  deficient  in  illuminative  and  stimulating 
force,  gathering  all  his  erudition  from  the  printed 
notes  to  the  text-book  read.  And  as  in  scholarship 
so  in  theology  he  was  far  below  the  giants  of  the 
"  Movement "  ;  he  had  neither  Newman's  fascina- 
tion of  moral  earnestness  and  literary  style,  nor 
Liddon's  later  doctrinal  enthusiasm,  nor  Pusey's 
fathomless  abyss  of  learning ;  he  had  not  even 
Henry  of  Exeter's  versatile  facility  in  getting  up  a 
case  and  working  it  with  a  forensic  adroitness 
which  only  the  initiated  could  expose.  His  force 
was  purely  gladiatorial,  his  motive  power  personal ; 
the  side  he  had  adopted,  the  position  he  had  taken 
up,  became  in  his  eyes  sacramental,  opposition  to  it 
criminal  and  blasphemous.  When,  in  1863,  Pusey 
proposed  a  compromise  to  end  the  Jowett  strife, 
Denison  gathered  the  country  clergy  in  defiance  of 
his  old  chief,  ascending  the  steps  of  the  semicircle 
in  the  Theatre  in  order  to  expound  to  us  in  Latin 
the  causes  " quia  discedo  ab  amicis  mets."  I  re- 
member the  roar  of  displeasure  which  cut  him 
short,  the  scream  of  "  Procacissimi  pueri"  with 
which  he  descended,  the  curious  subsequent  mis- 
take, when  Chambers,  the  Proctor,  announced  the 

ORIEL  193 

result  of  the  voting  by  li  Majori  parti  placet"  ;  then, 
blushing  and  confused,  gave  way  to  his  fellow 
Proctor,  Kitchin,  who  dashed  the  exultation  of 
Jowett's  friends  by  the  amended  proclamation, 
"  Majori  parti  non  placet."  His  sermons  were  mina- 
ciously  dogmatic,  alienating  to  large-minded  and 
thoughtful  men,  grateful  only  to  the  prepossession 
which  prefers  petulant  insistence  to  sweet  reason- 
ableness in  argument  and  appeal.  He  ruled  his 
clergy  in  Somersetshire  imperiously  ;  I  always  felt 
sorry  for  his  Bishop.  The  only  man  among  them 
who  could  stand  up  to  him  was  Clark,  the  Vicar  of 
Taunton,  a  man  of  temperament  much  akin  to  his 
Archdeacon's,  but  apt  to  disregard  the  convenances 
of  gentle  breeding  which  in  all  his  outbreaks 
governed  Denison.  Agreeable  in  society  he 
always  was ;  it  was  Stanley's  delight  to  place  him 
at  the  Deanery  table  among  men  whom  he  had 
just  been  traducing  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  and 
who  found  their  malignant  censor  transformed 
into  a  cheery  equal,  friendly,  anecdotic,  convivial. 
"There  are  men,"  he  would  say  to  you,  as,  after 
vilipending  you  all  the  morning,  he  asked  you  to  take 
wine  with  him  at  luncheon,  "  there  are  men  whose 
persons  I  love  and  whose  opinions  I  abhor,  and 
there  are  men  whose  opinions  I  honour  and  whose 
selves  I  hate."  And  this  quality  redeemed  him ; 
without  it  he  would  have  been  a  mere  firebrand — 
to  some  he  seemed  so  all  along  ;  but  those  who  saw 
him  in  his  softer  hour — and  many  such  remain — 
those  especially  who  watched  him  presiding  over 
his  parish  water  storage  and  harvest  home  fes- 
tivities, still  send  from  the  railway  windows  as 



they  shoot  past  Brent  Knoll  a  benediction,  half 
humorous,  half  affectionate ;  echo  regretfully  the 
Tanden  requiescit  of  Lord  Lyttelton's  burlesque 
epitaph.1  {t  Requiescat,"  they  will  add,  "  but  not 
in  pace;  peace  would  destroy  his  paradise  ! " 

Associated  ever  in  my  mind  with  Denison,  not 
by  similitude,  but  by  graphic  contrast,  is  his  junior 
at  Oriel  by  some  fourteen  years,  Tom  Hughes.  He 
came  up  in  1842  ;  men  knew  him  as  an  athletic, 
pleasant  fellow,  pulling  always  in  fours  and  eights, 
eclipsed  somewhat  by  his  then  more  notable  brother 
George.  Between  George  Hughes  and  Denison 
there  were  many  points  of  resemblance,  but  Tom 
was  everything  that  Denison  was  not.  Denison 
was  a  Don,  Tom  was  a  Bohemian ;  Denison  a 
sacerdotalist  in  white  cravat  and  Master's  hood, 
Hughes  a  humanist  in  flannel  shirt  and  shooting 
jacket.  Denison  was  an  incarnation  of  lost  causes, 
Hughes  the  pilot  of  a  beneficent  future.  Denison 
rode  a  painted  rocking-horse  to  tilt  with  theological 
windmills,  Tom  rushed  to  spike  the  guns  of  social 
selfishness,  like  his  own  East  in  the  trenches  of  the 
Sutlej  forts.  The  historian  of  the  century,  if  he 
recalls  Denison  at  all,  will  speak  of  him  as  the  high- 
bred clerical  aristocrat,  relic  of  a  class  extinct.  He 
will  extol  Hughes  as  pioneer  of  a  new  and  ardent 
realism,  shaping  itself  to-day  under  fresh  conditions, 
yet  essentially  accordant  with  his  creed ;  as  labour- 
ing to  alleviate  the  discontent  of  the  many  by  the 
self-sacrifice  of  the  few,  to  extinguish  class  antago- 
nism and  bridge  social  chasm,  to  replace  an  oligarchy 
of  prescriptive  privilege,  rank,  and  wealth,  by  a 
1  Appendix  O. 

ORIEL  195 

nobler  timocracy  of  eminence  in  intellectual  ac- 
quirement and  in  evangelical  generosity  of  aim. 
Even  as  an  undergraduate  Hughes  was  a  "  Christian 
Chartist/'  in  full  sympathy  with  the  passionate  dis- 
content which  English  proletarian  misery  well 
justified,  yet  holding  that  the  party  of  upheaval 
must  be  led  by  men  of  property  and  social  rank,  if 
civil  war  were  to  be  averted  by  peaceful  civic  re- 
construction. His  Radicalism,  both  at  Oxford  and 
elsewhere,  was  ludicrously  composite ;  Colonel 
Newcome's  electoral  programme  is  hardly  a 
travesty  of  Hughes  :  "  He  was  for  having  every 
man  to  vote,  every  poor  man  to  labour  short  time 
and  get  high  wages,  every  poor  curate  to  be  paid 
double  or  treble,  every  bishop  to  be  docked  of  his 
salary  and  dismissed  from  the  House  of  Lords ;  but 
he  was  a  staunch  admirer  of  that  assembly  and  a 
supporter  of  the  rights  of  the  Crown."  And  this 
political  confusedness  was  his  strength  as  a  social 
iconoclast.  The  unwashed  rallied  round  a  gentle- 
man who  was  for  abolishing  the  very  rich  and  very 
poor,  round  a  Christian  who  read  Socialism  into 
every  page  of  the  New  Testament ;  the  aristocracy 
gave  ear  of  necessity  to  the  well-dressed,  well-bred 
school  and  University  man,  who  from  their  own 
point  of  view  and  in  their  own  interest  preached 
reform  as  alternative  to  revolution.  So  for  a  time 
the  school  of  Maurice,  Kingsley,  Hughes,  shaped 
the  sentiment  and  coloured  the  literature  of  the 
country ;  until,  when  from  the  Chartism  of  the 
Forties  was  by  degrees  evolved  the  Collectivism  of 
the  Eighties,  older  Radicals  shrank  back  alarmed 
before  the  Demos  which  they  had  nursed  com- 
placently^in  its  childhood. 


Of  his  books,  two  alone  probably  will  live.    The 
"Scouring   of   the  White  Horse,"  racy  but  local, 
interests   those   only   who   are   familiar   with   that 
pleasant,    sleepy,    peaceful    Berkshire    vale ;     his 
"  Memoirs   of   a    Brother"  leaves,  unintentionally 
and    quite    incorrectly,    the    impression    that    the 
muscular  representative  of  the  Uffington  Hugheses 
must  have  been  an  oppressively  pragmatical  hero  ; 
but   theme   and   treatment   combine  to  make   the 
two  "Tom  Browns"  immortal.     I  know  no  more 
cogent    tribute    to   Arnold's    greatness    than    that 
Rugby   alone   of    all   public   schools    should   have 
earned    world-wide    celebrity    by    an    unrivalled 
biography  and  an  unrivalled  epic,  both   stamped 
in  every  page  with  his  pre-inspiring  impulse,  both 
lit  from  the  torch  of  his  Idaean  fire.     Of  Rugby, 
though  not  of  Arnold,  Hughes  was  a  better  inter- 
preter than  Stanley.     Dean  Lake  used  to  say  that 
Stanley    never    was    a    boy ;     he    left    school    as 
he   entered  it,  something  between  girl  and  man. 
Hughes  was  puerilissimus,  boy  in  virtues  and  in 
foibles ;    and  as,  on  the  one  hand,  Stanley  could 
not    delineate    the    rough-and-tumble    life    which 
moulds  nine-tenths  of  public  school  boys,  could 
never  have  appreciated  or  described  the  football 
match,  or  the  fight  with  Slogger  Williams,  so,  on 
the  other   hand,  the   tribute  which    Hughes  pays 
to   Arnold   attests    that   wonderful   schoolmaster's 
electric  influence  on  unreceptive  ordinary  natures 
such  as  Brown's  and  East's,  no  less  than  on  the 
exceptional  temperaments  of  a  Vaughan,  a  Clough, 
a    Stanley.      Of    course,   in    both    books   Tom   is 
Hughes    himself;     Arthur,    according    to    Rugby 



tradition,  was  a  boy  named  Orlebar ;  the  "  young 
master  "  was  Cotton  ;  East  in  the  one  book,  Hardy 
in  the  other,  are  probably  mere  types.  And, 
though  continuations  are  usually  disappointing, 
I  should  place  "Tom  Brown  at  Oxford"  not 
one  whit  behind  its  predecessor.  Recalling  the 
higher  fictions  which  deal  with  undergraduate  life, 
"Reginald  Dalton,"  "Vincent  Eden,"  « Peter 
Priggins,"  "Loss  and  Gain,"  "Verdant  Green/' 
the  Cambridge  chapter  in  "Alton  Locke,"  the 
Boniface  chapter  in  ll  Pendennis,"  I  rank  "Tom 
Brown "  before  them  all  for  the  vigour  and  the 
completeness  of  its  portrayal.  Every  phase  of 
College  life  as  it  exuberated  seventy  years  ago — 
fast  and  slow,  tuft  and  Bible  clerk,  reading 
man  and  lounger ;  profligacy  and  debt,  summer 
term  and  Commemoration,  boat  races,  wines, 
University  sermons, — passes  easily  in  review,  with- 
out Kingsley's  hysteria,  without  Newman's  prig- 
gishness,  without  Hewlett's  vulgarity,  without 
Lockhart's  stiltedness,  without  Cuthbert  Bede's 
burlesque.  The  New  Zealander  of  A.D.  4000, 
visiting  the  tangled  morasses  of  the  Upper  Thames 
which  once  were  Oxford,  the  crumbling  chaos 
of  rotting  carriages  and  twisted  rails  which 
once  was  Rugby,  will  annotate  his  monumental 
work  on  "Ancient  England"  with  Tom  Brown's 
pictures  of  their  ruined  sites  and  Tom  Brown's 
chronicles  of  their  academic  humour.  They  seem 
to  me  somehow  memorials  of  a  life  fuller,  more 
varied,  more  youthful,  than  is  proved  to-day  by 
our  golden  or  our  gilded  juvenility.  Stagecoaches, 
postchaises,  peashooters  meant  more  fun  than 


first-class  carriages  and  railway  novels ;  boys  were 
" fellows"  then,  now,  save  the  mark!  they  are 
"men";  undergraduates  who  crowded  formerly 
the  coffee  rooms  of  the  Old  and  New  Hummums, 
Tavistock,  Bedford,  melt  to-day  into  a  mammoth 
hotel,  gravitate  after  play  and  supper  to  music-halls 
and  casinos,  instead  of  applauding  Herr  von  Joel 
or  shaking  hands  with  Paddy  Green  at  Evans'. 
I  am  a  fogey,  to  be  sure,  and  out  of  date  ;  but, 
remembering  the  days  when  I  rode  from  Southam 
to  Rugby  on  the  "  Pig  and  Whistle,"  or  was 
dropped  at  the  Mitre  by  Jack  Adams  from  the 
box  of  the  Royal  Defiance,  the  days  when  Cowley 
Marsh  was  a  rush-grown  common,  and  from 
Magdalen  bridge  to  Iffley  there  was  not  a  single 
roadside  house,  I  feel  for  those  ancient  ways  and 
vanished  hours  what  our  present  youngsters  will 
mayhap  feel  for  their  own  some  ten  or  twelve 
lustres  hence,  and  I  bless  the  hand  that  has  pre- 
served the  verdure  of  their  antiquity  with  a  pen 
whose  vigour  and  a  heart  whose  freshness  bid 
antiquity  defiance. 

I  have  travelled  far  from  Oriel ;  I  return  to 
find  Charles  Neate  on  horseback  at  the  Corpus 
corner,  his  face  set  towards  the  meet  at  Brasenose 
Wood.  He  began  life  as1,  a  barrister,  but  was 
disbarred  for  horsewhipping — (so  says  one  tradi- 
tion ;  for  kicking,  says  another),  Bethell,  known 
later  as  Lord  Westbury,  then  as  afterwards  the 
tyrant  of  the  profession,  who  had  insulted  him  in 
court.  He  was  cosmopolitan,  at  home  in  Paris, 
a  member  of  London  clubs,  a  mighty  hunter.  He 

ORIEL  199 

stood  for  Oxford  City  in  the  Fifties  as  a  Radical, 
and  was  elected,  but  unseated  for  bribery,  negotiated 
I  was  told,  by  one  of  his  committee,  and  without 
his  knowledge.  While  in  the  House  he  became 
intimate  with  John  Bright.  I  have  heard  him 
describe  their  first  accost.  The  smoking-room 
was  crowded ;  Bright  sat  upon  one  chair,  and 
leaned  his  arm  across  the  back  of  another.  Neate 
asked  him  if  he  required  two  seats.  "  Yes,  I  do  ; 
but  I'll  get  you  another  "—which  he  did.  Neate 
gave  his  name,  and  a  friendship  soon  sprang 
up.  He  brought  Bright  down  to  Oxford;  they 
came  together  to  a  Congregation,  where  we  were 
voting  on  some  election.  The  papers,  having  been 
counted  by  the  Proctors  and  the  result  announced, 
were  burned  on  a  brazier  in  the  room,  a  custom 
long  since  extinct ;  Bright  expressing  his  amused 
delight — it  was  before  the  Ballot — to  find  the  secret 
vote  enforced  in  the  University  of  Oxford.  Neate 
was  in  the  Theatre  when  Dizzy  made  his  famous 
"  angel "  speech,  at  a  meeting  of  the  Diocesan 
Association,  S.  Oxon  in  the  chair.  "What  is  the 
question  now  placed  before  society  with  a  glib 
assurance  the  most  astounding  ?  The  question 
is  this — Is  man  an  ape  or  an  angel  ?  My  lord, 
I  am  on  the  side  of  the  angels."  Neate,  in  a 
delicious  set  of  Sapphics,1  inclined  rather  to  range 
the  great  posture  master  on  the  other  side  : 

"Angela  quis  te  similem  putaret 
Esse,  vel  divis  atavis  creatum, 
Cum  tuas  plane  referat  dolosas 
Simius  artes  ?  " 

1  Appendix  P. 



"  There  is  a  history  in  all  men's  lives 
Figuring  the  nature  of  the  times  deceased; 
The  which  observed,  a  man  may  prophesy, 
With  a  near  aim,  of  the  main  chance  of  things 
As  yet  not  come  to  life,  which  in  their  seeds 
And  weak  beginnings  lie  intreasured." 


Two  Masters  of  Balliol — Jenkyns  and  Jowett — The  One  who  came 
between — The  Succession  to  Scott — Temple  and  Jowett — Henry 
Wall — Dean  Lake — "The  Serpent" — Lake  on  Arnold — Jowett 
and  Dr.  Johnson — Obiter  Dicta — A  Conversation — Jowett's  un- 
familiarity  with  Natural  Science — Temple — T.  H.  Green. 

FOR  elderly  men  of  to-day  the  term  "  Master  of 
Balliol"  conjures  up  two  visions.  They  think  of 
Jenkyns  in  the  Thirties  and  Forties,  of  Jowett  in 
the  Seventies  and  Eighties ;  they  do  not  think  of 
Scott,  who  came  between.  Overlaid,  enveloped, 
eclipsed  by  the  two  luminaries  who  "  went  behind 
him  and  before,"  he  somehow  drops  out  of  sight ; 
his  reign  is  an  intervention,  and  is  remembered 
only  with  an  effort.  His  was  a  career  of  early 
promise  unusual,  but  unfulfilled.  He  came  from 
Shrewsbury  to  Oxford  as  the  best  of  Butler's  pupils, 
won  the  Craven  and  Ireland  and  the  Latin  Essay, 
was  First  Class  man  and  Fellow  of  Balliol.  His 
notes  to  the  "Uniomachia"  and  his  Homerics  on 
the  Chancellorship  showed  rare  aptness  and  re- 



source  in  the  exceptional  felicities  of  Greek  and 
Latin  scholarship.  In  1834,  the  year  after  his 
degree,  Talboys,  the  leading  Oxford  bookseller, 
proposed  to  him  to  undertake  the  translation  of 
Passow's  German-Greek  Lexicon ;  he  consented 
on  condition  that  with  him  Liddell  might  be 
associated.  The  Lexicon  appeared  in  1843  ;  the 
first  edition  is  now  a  curious  rarity;  when  shortly 
before  his  death  Liddell  wished  to  place  it  in  the 
Christchurch  Library,  it  was  long  before  he  could 
obtain  a  copy.  Their  several  shares  in  it  cannot 
be  known  :  Westminster  naturally  placed  Scott 
below  Liddell  in  its  construction.  The  well-known 

"  Two  men  wrote  a  Lexicon,  Liddell  and  Scott ; 
One  half  was  clever,  one  half  was  not. 
Give  me  the  answer,  boys,  quick,  to  this  riddle, 
Which  was  by  Scott,  and  which  was  by  Liddell  ?  " 

were  an  epigram  sent  up  by  a  boy  at  the  "  trials  " 
for  the  Maunday  Thursday  money,  on  the  thesis 
" Scribimus  indocti  doctique."  The  Rev.  W.  G. 
Armitstead,  Vicar  of  Goosetree,  writes  to  me  that 
he  was  present  in  school  as  a  boy  when  the  lines 
were  composed,  and  according  to  custom  were 
read  aloud  by  Liddell,  who  complimented  their 
author  with  the  full  four-coin  meed  of  fourpenny> 
threepenny,  twopenny,  penny  silver  pieces,  awarded 
to  the  best  composition.  A  more  decided  view  of 
the  two  partners'  relative  claims  emanated  from 
Balliol,  in  a  not  very  elegant  triplet : 

"  Part  of  it's  good,  and  part  of  it's  rot : 
The  part  that  is  good  was  written  by  Scott  : 
By  Liddell  was  written  the  part  that  is  not." 


Scott  retired  to  a  College  living;  and  the  later 
editions,  changing  a  tentative  into  a  masterpiece, 
owed  most  of  their  excellence  to  Liddell,  whose 
desire  for  its  linguistic  revision  by  Max  Miiller  was 
foiled  by  Scott's  apathy  or  opposition.  In  1854 
the  old  Master  died,  the  College  was  divided  as 
to  his  successor.  The  senior  Fellows  wished  for 
Temple,  an  equal  number  of  the  juniors  wished 
for  Jowett ;  James  Riddell  wanted  Scott,  but 
would  vote  for  Jowett  rather  than  for  Temple.  So 
at  the  last  moment  Temple's  supporters  threw  him 
over  for  Scott,  securing  Riddell's  vote.  For  ten 
years  he  was  an  obstructive,  wielding  his  numerical 
ascendancy  to  crush  all  Jowett's  schemes  of  reform. 
"Your  head,"  said  Jowett  to  a  Fellow  of  another 
College,  "  seems  to  be  an  astute  person,  who  works 
by  winning  confidence ;  here  we  have  a  bare 
struggle  for  power  "  ;  and  when,  in  1865,  successive 
elections  to  Fellowships  had  given  Jowett  a 
majority,  Scott's  influence  in  the  College  waned. 
Nor  was  he  effective  beyond  the  walls  of  Balliol. 
Soon  after  his  appointment  he  preached  a  magnifi- 
cent University  sermon  on  Dives  and  Lazarus, 
with  application  of  the  "five  brethren"  episode  to 
the  home  ties,  feelings,  scruples,  tenderness  of 
undergraduates.  When  he  next  occupied  the 
pulpit,  St.  Mary's  was  filled  from  entrance  door  to 
organ  screen;  but  the  sermon  was  absolutely  dull 
— on  Hezekiah's  song — nor  did  he  ever  again 
command  an  audience ;  in  his  Headship  as  i-n 
his  earlier  career  he  left,  as  some  one  says,  a 
great  future  behind  him.  In  1870  Gladstone,  at 
Lowe's  entreaty,  appointed  him  to  the  Deanery  of 


Rochester  in  order  to  make  room  for  Jowett,  and 
he  descended  into  decanal  quietude. 

Scott's  firmest  supporter  in  College  had  been 
Henry  Wall,  Lecturer  and  Bursar  :  he  figures  in 
the  "  Grand  Logic  Sweepstakes"  as  Barbadoes, 
having  been  born  in  that  island.  It  was  he  who 
led  the  opposition  to  Max  Miiller  for  the  "half-a- 
brick"  reason  that  he  was  a  foreigner.  His  intellect 
was  clear,  logical,  penetrating;  his  temper  some- 
what arrogant.  His  lectures,  which  as  Prelector 
of  Logic  he  delivered  publicly  in  Balliol  Hall  to  all 
who  chose  to  bring  the  statutory  guinea,  were 
cosmic  in  their  reduction  and  formularisation  of 
the  Aldrich-Aristotle  chaos.  Keen-eyed,  sharp- 
nosed,  vehement  in  manner  and  gesture,  he  fired 
off  questions  as  he  went  along  at  this  or  that  student 
who  caught  his  eye,  with  joyous  acceptance  of  a 
neat  response,  scornful  pounce  on  a  dull  or  inat- 
tentive answerer.  He  was  an  undesirable  dinner 
guest,  starting  questions  which  he  seemed  to  have 
prepared  beforehand  for  the  pleasure  of  showing 
off  his  dexterity  in  word  fence,  rousing  temper,  and 
spoiling  conversational  amenities.  He  was  a  great 
dancer  :  the  waltz  of  those  days  was  a  serious 
department  of  life,  "to  be  wooed  with  incessant 
thought  and  patient  renunciation  of  small  desires." 
Readers  of "  Pelham  " — does  any  one  read  "  Pelham  " 
now  ?— will  remember  how  Lady  Charlotte  im- 
pressed upon  her  fashionable  son  the  moral  duty 
of  daily  practice,  with  a  chair  if  no  partner  could 
be  obtained ;  and  to  see  Wall's  thin  legs  twinkle  in 
the  mazy  was  a  memorable  experience.  He  was 
exceedingly  hospitable ;  giving  dances,  sometimes 


on  a  large  scale  in  Wyatt's  Rooms,  oftener  at  his 
snug  little  house  in  New  Inn  Hall  Lane,  to  the 
music  of  old  Grimmett's  harp  and  fiddle.  With 
him  lived  a  stout,  florid  sister,  dressed  in  many- 
coloured  garments,  a  niece  whom  pupils  knew  as 
"Bet,"  and  a  Pomeranian  "  Fop "  who  suffered 
many  things  when  his  master's  back  was  turned. 
He  was  great  in  charades,  personating  now  a  Radical 
mob  orator,  now  an  ancient  crone,  now  a  shy, 
clumsy,  gaping  freshman.  When  well  on  in  years 
he  made  a  January  and  May  marriage ;  the  bachelor 
home  was  recast;  poor  Bet  had  died,  Fop  had 
borne  his  mistress  company  to  that  equal  sky, 
the  jovial  sister  subsided  into  small  lodgings  over 
a  baker's  shop  in  Holywell  :  miscentur  Mcenia 

Senior  to  Scott  and  Wall  was  the  redoubtable 
Francis  Newman,  whose  "  Phases  of  Faith "  will 
probably  preserve  his  name.  He  gained  a  Double 
First  in  1826,  being  the  first  man  who  ever  offered 
in  the  Schools  the  Higher  Mathematics  analytically 
treated.  Cooke,  afterwards  Sedleian  Reader,  pro- 
nounced that  they  could  not,  according  to  the 
Statute,  pass  beyond  the  Geometry  of  Newton  ; 
but  Walker,  Experimental  Philosophy  Professor, 
who  probably  of  the  three  examiners  alone  knew 
the  subject,  persuaded  his  colleagues  to  let  him 
examine  Newman  in  the  work  he  offered ;  and  the 
candidate's  answers  were  so  brilliant,  that  the 
examiners,  not  content  with  awarding  his  First, 
presented  him  with  finely  bound  copies  of  La  Place 
and  La  Grange.  He  once  or  twice  stayed  with  me 
at  Taunton,  sending  word  beforehand  that  he  was  a 


vegetarian,  but  eating  copiously  of  fish  and  eggs. 
In  company  he  did  not  so  much  converse  as  emit 
pilulous  dogmas  from  his  thin  lips  in  a  prim, 
didactic,  authoritative  tone  ; — on  Ghosts  and  Fairy 
Legends  as  appropriate  to  children's  minds,  on  the 
Teutonic  view  of  the  Devil  with  its  humorous  tinge, 
on  Almsgiving  in  the  streets,  on  Home  Tooke  and 
Cobbett,  on  the  position  of  women  in  Society,  on 
phonetic  spelling,  on  the  Saturday  Review.  I  re- 
member too  his  delivering  a  fluent,  venomous 
Philippic  against  Physical  Science,  in  which  he  had 
observed  me  to  be  deeply  interested.  He  was  a  slave 
to  total  abstinence,  to  anti-vaccination,  to  every  kind 
of  fad.  He  would  stalk  the  streets  with  me,  silent 
and  absorbed,  in  a  Tyrolese  hat,  and  a  short  cloak 
with  long  tassels,  winning  from  the  street-boys 
rather  formidable  attentions  : 

"  Statua  taciturnius  exit 
Plerumque,  et  risu  populum  quatit." 

Prominent  in  College  work  and  discipline,  and 
dying  at  a  great  age  only  a  few  years  ago,  was  Dean 
Lake.  I  saw  him  first  in  1842,  when  Clough,  with 
whom  I  was  reading  at  the  time,  took  me  to  breakfast 
in  his  rooms.  They  looked  into  the  quad ;  and 
as  we  stood  at  the  window  after  breakfast  he  pointed 
out  a  black-haired,  smooth-cheeked,  ruddy  under- 
graduate, and  said,  "  Notice  that  man  ;  he  will  be 
our  Double  First  this  year."  It  was  Temple ;  and 
I  went  with  Clough  into  the  Schools  to  hear  his 
Viva  Voce.  Lake  was  kind  to  me  after  that ;  one 
day  took  me  for  a  walk.  We  encountered  his 
doctor  in  Broad  Street,  and  they  stopped  to  talk. 


He  was  looking  wretchedly  ill,  red-nosed,  pale,  and 
thin,  admitted  in  answer  to  questions  that  he  had 
fasted  during  Lent ;  and  I  listened  unnoticed  to  the 
wise  earnestness  with  which  the  doctor,  a  man 
greatly  respected  and  beloved,  urged  upon  him  the 
duty  of  caring  for  his  body  as  the  condition  of  all 
useful  work.  As  a  fact,  the  phase  of  feeling  which 
took  shape  with  him  in  bodily  maceration  was  a 
transient  one ;  he  had  been  bitten  by  the  Newmania, 
but  he  soon,  like  Goldsmith's  man  of  Islington, 
recovered  of  the  bite.  He  was  not  liked  either  as 
Tutor  or  as  Proctor.  His  manner  was  cold,  sar- 
castic, sneering ;  and  a  certain  slyness  earned  him 
the  nickname  of  "  Serpent,"  applied  originally  at 
Rugby  in  reference  to  his  sinuous  shuffling 
walk,  and  retained  by  Balliol  undergraduates 
as  characterising  his  methods  of  College  dis- 

It  is  no  less  significant  of  the  deviating  intellectual 
vacillations,  which  in  spite  of  his  great  abilities 
disqualified  him  for  leadership,  and  go  far  to  explain, 
what  has  been  often  cited  as  unintelligible,  his 
failure  to  attain  conspicuous  and  commanding 
eminence.  When,  in  1849,  young  Lancaster  of 
Balliol,  for  playfully  fastening  up  and  painting  a 
Tutor's  oak,  was  summoned  before  a  Common 
Room  meeting  to  receive  sentence,  the  scene  was 
thus  rendered  by  a  forgotten  wit : — 

Incipit  "Jinks." 

And  first  out  spake  "the  Master":  "The  young  man  must 

go  down, 
And  when  a  twelvemonth  has  elapsed  he  may  resume  his 



Serpens  sequitur. 

And  the  Serpent's  brow  was  calm,  and  the  Serpent's  voice 

was  low  ; 

"  I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Lancaster,  but  really  you  must  go. 
The  fact  has  come  so  clearly  before  the  Tutor's  knowledge, 
And  if  we  once  pass  over  this,  what  rules  can  bind  the  College  ?" 

Lancaster  respondet. 

Then  out  spake  Harry  Lancaster,  that  man  of  iron  pate  : 
"  I  know,  ye  Dons,  I  must  have  gone  a  mucker  soon  or  late  ; 
But  this  I  say,  and  swear  it  too,  without  or  cheek  or  funk, 

The  Tutor  may  have  been  screwed  up,  I'm  if  /  was 


He  left  to  Mrs.  Goddard  the  packing  of  his  togs, 
He  paid  no  ticks,  with  chums  exchanged  no  farewell  dialogues  ; 
But  in  a  fury  flinging  down 
His  academic  cap  and  gown, 
And  striding  madly  through  the  town, 
Rushed,  headlong,  to  the  dogs  ! 

Lake  bore,  for  strictly  Balliol  consumption,  another 
playful  sobriquet,  an  obvious  degradation  of  his 
name.  Walking  one  day  with  John  Conington, 
he  said,  "Do  you  know,  Conington,  that  the  men 
call  you  the  Sick  Vulture  ? "  Conington  turned 
on  him  his  blank,  pallid  moon-face,  and  said, 
"  Do  you  know,  Lake,  that  the  men  call  you 
Puddle?"  There  is  of  the  retort  yet  another 
rendering,  which  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  write. 
In  1858  he  took  the  College  living  of  Huntspill, 
then  a  very  valuable  incumbency,  but  a  secluded, 
unhealthy,  stagnant  village  in  the  Bristol  Channel 
marshes.  He  was  not  the  man  to  spend  there 
much  of  his  time  :  he  kept  a  capable  curate,  a 
muscular  Christian  he  half  admiringly,  half  con- 
temptuously, called  him ;  and  lived  mostly  in 


London,  enjoying  club  life  at  the  Athenaeum,  and 
labouring  for  a  long  time  on  the  Duke  of  New- 
castle's Education  Commission.  I  remember 
standing  with  him  at  the  Highbridge  Station, 
when  one  of  his  principal  farmers  came  up  and 
said,  "We  don't  see  much  of  you  at  Huntspill, 
Mr.  Lake."  "You  may  depend  upon  it,"  said  the 
faithful  herdman,  "that  you  won't  see  more  of 
me  than  I  can  help."  He  was  one  of  the  most 
active  members  of  the  Commission,  supporting 
the  large  recommendations  which,  novel  and 
startling  at  the  time,  were  all  eventually  embodied 
in  Mr.  Forster's  Act.  He  told  me  that  the  secre- 
tary, Fitzjames  Stephen,  a  man  in  the  habit  of 
riding  rough-shod  over  his  fellows,  tried  to  domi- 
nate and  bully  the  Commissioners.  They  deputed 
to  Lake  the  task  of  extinguishing  him,  and  in 
rebuke  to  some  instance  of  unwarrantable  inter- 
ference he  went  across  to  the  secretary  and  ex- 
plained to  him  with  serpentine  grace  that  he  was 
intruding  on  their  prerogative  and  must  confine 
himself  to  his  proper  function.  The  hint  was 
taken  perforce ;  but  one  of  the  reporters  said 
afterwards  to  Lake,  "The  expression  of  Mr. 
Stephen's  countenance  when  you  spoke  to  him, 
sir,  was  truly  diabolical."  I  saw  a  good  deal  of 
him  during  his  visits  to  Huntspill.  He  attended 
educational  meetings  in  which  I  was  interested, 
an  animated,  nay  violent  speaker  :  arms  and  coat- 
tails  flew  about  while  he  strode  hither  and  thither  : 
for  his  after-dinner  orations  we  used  to  clear  out 
of  his  way  the  wineglasses  and  other  unstable 
appurtenances  of  dessert.  Of  clerical  assemblies 



he  fought  shy.  Posing  at  that  time  as  an  advanced 
Liberal  and  a  Broad  Churchman,  his  plea  for  un- 
fettered admission  of  Nonconformists  to  all  our 
schools,  and  his  denunciation  of  Bishop  Gray, 
just  then  tramping  Somersetshire  in  his  crusade 
against  Colenso,  gave  deep  offence  to  Philistia. 
He  would  have  liked  to  be  Regius  Professor  of 
Divinity,  and  was  bitterly  savage  at  Payne  Smith's 
appointment.  Lord  Palmerston  consulted  Jeune ; 
and  Jeune,  who  while  solitary  as  Vice-Chancellor 
in  the  Long  Vacation  had  seen  much  of  Smith, 
then  a  sub-librarian  at  the  Bodleian,  was  impressed 
by  his  Oriental  erudition  and  his  views  on  Mes- 
sianic prophecy,  and  named  him  at  once.  I 
dare  say  the  Chair  lost  nothing  by  his  occupancy 
rather  than  by  Lake's,  who  was  but  an  amateur 
theologian ;  his  conception  of  theology  not  Bib- 
lical criticism,  hermeneutics,  exegesis,  scientific 
discernment  of  the  spiritual  unity  underlying  all 
higher  forms  of  religion,  but  the  regulation  dog- 
matism which  is  in  request  with  Anglican  bishops 
and  equips  for  Anglican  Orders. 

None  the  less,  at  every  period  of  his  life,  he 
showed  himself  extraordinarily  capable.  His  Rugby 
schooldays  placed  him  in  the  inner  circle  of 
Arnold's  best  beloved  and  cherished  pupils :  as 
a  Balliol  Tutor  he  was  among  the  first  to  initiate 
that  higher  view  of  the  relation  between  teacher 
and  taught  which  Jowett  carried  to  perfection. 
The  organisation  of  the  new  School  of  Law  and 
Modern  History  in  1853  was  placed  almost  en- 
tirely in  his  hands.  When  he  was  appointed  by 
the  War  Office  in  1856  on  a  Commission  of  In- 



quiry  into  the  great  continental  military  schools, 
his  two  associates,  both  officers  of  high  rank,  bore 
testimony  to  the  valuable  non-professional  influ- 
ence on  their  counsels  of  a  civilian  so  highly 
educated,  so  tactful,  so  consummate  in  practical 
aptitude.  At  Durham  he  used  his  decanal  autho- 
rity to  facilitate  the  establishment  of  a  Newcastle 
Science  College  which  Huxley  had  long  been 
urging.  He  reanimated  the  moribund  Durham 
University,  raising  the  number  of  students  from 
fifty  to  two  hundred ;  and  he  restored  to  dignity 
and  beauty  the  inadequate  services  and  decaying 
fabric  of  the  grand  Cathedral. 

He  was  not  always  facile  a  vivre :  many  persons 
noted  and  still  recall  him  as  cold,  stern,  masterful. 
Shy  he  may  have  been — it  is  the  accepted  excuse 
for  stiffness — superior  to  his  company  he  must 
often  have  felt  himself ;  and,  a  Don  by  constitution 
and  training,  he  was  more  likely  to  exhibit  such 
consciousness  than  to  veil  it.  But  with  intimates 
he  was  cordial,  trustful,  staunch,  affectionate ;  and 
he  never  forgot  old  friends.  In  the  company  of 
such  he  was  a  very  charming  talker ;  his  con- 
versation not  so  much  ornate  with  anecdote, 
quotation,  epigram,  as  fresh  and  mobile  through 
its  vivid  recollection  of  events,  places,  men  ;  keenly 
logical  without  pedantry,  flowing  in  crisp,  well 
poised,  comprehensive  sentences,  mindful  ever  of 
the  colloquial  rights  of  others. 

He  stayed  in  my  house  more  than  once,  full 
always  of  interesting  talk.  He  gave  us  one  even- 
ing a  minute  description  of  Dr.  Arnold's  death. 
He  was  a  guest  in  the  School  House  at  the  time ; 


the  five  younger  children  had  gone  to  Fox  How, 
and  all  were  to  follow  in  a  day  or  two,  when 
the  school  should  have  broken  up.  He  and  the 
Doctor  strolled  till  dusk  on  the  Sunday  evening 
in  the  Head  Master's  garden  overlooking  the 
School  Close.  Their  talk  was  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment writers,  and  he  recalled  the  almost  angry 
vehemence  with  which  Arnold  resented  a  prefer- 
ence of  St.  Paul  to  St.  John.  The  great  Head 
Master  died  early  next  morning,  and  Lake  went 
down  to  Fox  How  with  the  tidings.  He  dwelt 
on  the  pathos  of  the  journey,  the  beauty  of  the 
Rothay  Valley  as  he  drove  along  it  from  the 
head  of  Windermere  in  the  early  summer  dawn, 
the  exquisite  peacefulness  of  the  tree-shaded  home. 
It  was  Arnold's  forty-seventh  birthday,  and  the 
children  had  prepared  to  celebrate  it;  they  were 
waked  instead  to  learn  the  news,  and  went  back 
with  Lake  to  see  their  father's  face  in  death.  He 
went  on  to  talk  of  his  old  master,  depreciating 
the  value  of  his  influence.  Electric  and  over- 
powering, it  was,  he  said,  more  than  boys  nature 
could  stand ;  coming  on  them  prematurely,  in- 
fusing priggishness  rather  than  principle.  "  Hal- 
ford  Vaughan  once  agreed  with  me  that  it  took 
five  years  to  recover  from  the  mental  and  moral 
distortion  which  it  involved."  One  trait  of  char- 
acter, said  to  have  been  strongly  marked  at  Oxford, 
we  noticed  in  him  more  than  once,  a  sort  of 
superior  tuft-hunting  :  not,  of  course,  the  vulgar 
deference  to  social  rank  and  wealth,  but  a  rather 
too  exclusive  pursuit  of  and  attention  to  the  man 
of  highest  note  in  any  company.  I  met  him  once 


at  a  large  dinner  party.  He  found  me  alone  when 
he  entered,  and  began  to  talk ;  presently  the  Head 
Master  of  Winchester  was  announced,  and  for  him 
Lake  naturally  left  me.  But  on  the  arrival  of 
Eothen  Kinglake  the  Head  Master  found  himself 
deserted ;  and  when  the  party  was  joined  by 
Temple,  then  in  the  splendour  of  his  pre-episcopal 
repute,  Eothen  in  his  turn  was  dropped.  Of 
course,  we  the  rejected  ones,  combining  on  the 
common  ground  of  supersession,  discussed  our 
friend's  peculiarity  with  good-humoured  impar- 

He  was  in  his  last  days  every  inch  a  Dean.  His 
tall  figure  and  authoritative  diction  suited  the 
hieratic  consequence  of  gaiters  and  apron.  His 
departure  left  a  gap,  which,  happily  for  the  Cathe- 
dral and  the  University,  came  to  be  filled  by  a 
successor  of  attainments  not  less  brilliant  and  of 
presence  equally  imposing.  Reckoning  him  up  from 
his  Oxford  and  his  Huntspill  days,  I  should  say 
that  he  was  too  self-centred  and  withdrawn,  too 
aggressively  the  superior  person,  to  be  popular ; 
that,  winning  an  undoubtedly  high  position,  his 
performance  scarcely  equalled  the  expectation  men 
had  formed  of  him ;  that  he  remained  through  life 
a  conspicuous  and  interesting  figure  rather  than 
an  effectual  and  influential  force. 

Of  Jowett  I  shall  not  say  much.  The  "Jowler 
myths "  served  their  purpose  and  are  exploded ; 
the  facts  of  his  life  are  told  abundantly  in  the 
Biography,  a  book  which  for  my  own  part  I 
never  open  without  extracting  from  it  gold  unal- 
loyed. I  was  so  fortunate  once  as  to  meet  him 


in  a  country  house ;  in  such  retreats  he  was 
always  at  his  best,  communicative,  receptive,  easy. 
The  talk  turned  on  obscure  passages  in  well-known 
poems — Tennyson's  "one  clear  harp,"  Newman's 
" those  angel  faces" — which  their  authors  when 
challenged  could  not  or  would  not  explain.  He 
quoted  Goldsmith  and  Johnson's  colloquy  over 
the  word  "slow"  in  the  opening  line  of  "The  Tra- 
veller." Asked  by  some  one  if  he  meant  tardiness 
of  locomotion,  Goldsmith  said  yes.  Johnson  inter- 
posed, "No,  sir,  you  do  not  mean  tardiness  of 
locomotion ;  you  mean  that  sluggishness  of  mind 
which  comes  upon  a  man  in  solitude."  He  repeated 
the  paragraph  exactly,  rolling  it  out  with  relish. 
Our  host,  his  old  pupil,  told  us  afterwards  that 
he  believed  Jowett  knew  his  Boswell  by  heart ; 
no  book  oftener  on  his  lips  or  pen.  We  passed 
to  the  "base  Judaean "  in  "Othello."  "Herod 
and  Mariamne,"  Barabas  and  his  daughter  in  the 
"Jew  of  Malta,"  were  proposed  as  illustrations. 
The  last  interested  him  much,  and  he  asked  many 
questions  about  the  play,  which  he  seemed  not 
to  have  read  ;  but  next  morning  he  said,  "  I  have 
been  thinking  it  over ;  it  can  only  mean  the 
Jewish  nation  and  Christ."  He  went  on  to  con- 
demn Gervinus'  Commentary,  but  found  we  were 
all  against  him.  A  lady  asked  him  whether  Bishop 
Butler's  saying  is  sound,  that,  in  general  no  part 
of  our  time  is  more  idly  spent  than  the  time  spent 
in  reading.  He  roused  himself  to  utter  very  em- 
phatically, "No."  "Mr.  Pattison  says  so."  "Mr. 
Pattison  would  make  all  reading  difficult,  he  would 
have  it  so  perfect  and  accurate."  "Yet  one  sits  at 


the  feet  of  a  great  man."  "You  would  not  give 
up  your  common-sense  if  you  do  sit  at  a  great 
man's  feet."  She  asked  his  opinion  of  Greg.  He 
spoke  admiringly  of  his  "  Enigmas  "  ;  went  on  to 
describe  him  as  a  most  curious  little  man,  aged 
seventy,  just  married,  likely  to  be  always  weigh- 
ing his  wife's  qualities  and  to  molest  her  when 
he  found  them  wanting.  Then  we  discussed  old 
Oxonians.  He  spoke  with  absolute  reverence  of 
Arnold.  Pusey,  he  thought,  had  deteriorated  ;  once 
innocent  and  a  saint,  he  had  become  "cunning 
and  almost  worldly."  Temple,  too,  had  suffered 
from  episcopacy.  He  pronounced  the  best  Oxford 
Colleges — it  was  in  1874 — to  be  Balliol,  New  Col- 
lege, University,  Trinity,  Lincoln.  He  withdrew 
after  breakfast  to  his  Plato,  but  we  had  a  long 
walk  on  Exmoor  in  the  afternoon.  As  we  sat 
on  the  hillside,  watching  the  "  shadowy  main  dim- 
tinted,"  along  which  wounded  Arthur  was  borne 
by  weeping  queens  in  dusky  barge  to  Avilion,  the 
blue  Atlantic  water  of  the  incoming  tide  pushing 
itself  in  great  wedges  up  the  brown  Severn  sea, 
I  picked  up  and  showed  him  a  chunk  of  old  red 
sandstone  at  my  feet,  flecked  with  minute  white 
spots,  which  under  my  Coddington  lens  became 
lichens  exquisite  in  shape  and  chasing.  I  recall 
his  almost  childlike  amazement  and  delight,  his 
regretful  confession  that  to  his  mind  all  natural 
science  was  a  blank,  wisdom  at  one  entrance  quite 
shut  out.  He  would  have  been  the  first  to  re- 
pudiate the  self-consciousness  of  omniscience  sug- 
gested by  the  famous  stanza  in  the  "Masque  of 


"  I  come  first,  my  name  is  Jowett ; 
What  there  is  to  know,  I  know  it. 
I'm  the  Master  of  this  College  ; 
What  I  know  not  is  not  knowledge," 

which  merely  recalls  a  saying  of  Madame  de 
Stae'l  :  "  Monsieur ',  je  comprends  tout  ce  qui  merite 
d'etre  compris ;  ce  que  je  ne  comprends  nest  rien" 
Much  the  same  thing  is  said,  more  audaciously,  in 
a  German  epigram — 

"  Gott  weiss  viel ; 
Doch  mehr  der  Herr  Professor  : 

Gott  weiss  alles  ! 
Doch  er — alles  besser." 

He  had,  in  fact,  several  times,  with  a  hanker- 
ing after  the  unknown,  attended  meetings  of  the 
British  Association.  In  one  of  these  an  amusing 
incident  occurred.  The  meeting  was  at  Newcastle, 
but  on  the  Sunday  men  went  to  Durham,  where 
the  fathers  of  the  Cathedral  looked  askance  at 
the  sages  in  their  midst,  and  appointed  Handel's 
"  What  tho'  I  trace"  as  a  significant  anthem  for  the 
Sunday  service.  The  preacher  was  Dr.  Sanders 
Evans,  a  famous  Cambridge  Scholar,  and  a  Shrews- 
bury pupil  of  Butler,  but  a  man  eccentric,  distrait, 
and  very  nervous.  He  had  prepared,  for  the 
ordinary  congregation,  a  learned  sermon  on  "  Essays 
and  Reviews,"  in  which  he  had  assailed  the  Greek 
of  Jowett's  book  on  St.  Paul's  Epistles ;  but  his 
heart  failed  him  when  on  entering  the  Cathedral  he 
spied  Jowett's  white  head  in  a  stall.  It  is  one  thing 
to  anatomise  a  book,  quite  another  to  vivisect  its 
author,  and  Evans  shrank  from  the  operation. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  There  was  present  in 


his  place  a  certain  Canon  and  Archdeacon  Bland, 
who  was  known  to  carry  a  sermon  in  his  pocket 
wherever  he  might  be.  To  him  was  sent  a  hurried 
message,  and  he  calmly  preached  his  inappropriate 
but  harmless  pocketful.  Jowett  was  not  told  of  the 
incident,  but  remarked  upon  the  badness  of  the 

I  told,  on  p.  205,  how,  looking  from  Lake's  Balliol 
windows,  I  saw  Temple  in  the  Quad  below.  The 
black-haired,  smooth-cheeked,  ruddy  undergraduate 
had  passed  through  a  Spartan  training  very  unlike 
that  of  his  comfortably  nurtured  associates.  He 
had  come  from  a  poverty-stricken  home,  at  whose 
frugal  board  dry  bread  was  the  staple  food ;  had 
been  trained  with  his  brothers  and  sisters  to  manual 
labour ;  the  boys  ploughing  and  gardening,  the 
girls  working  in  the  kitchen,  house,  and  dairy  : 

"  Proles  Sabellis  docta  ligonibus 
Versare  glebas,  et  severse 

Matris  ad  arbitrium  recisos 
Portare  fustes." 

Temple's  "  severa  mater  "  was  the  founder  of  his 
moral,  intellectual,  and  religious  character.  Know- 
ing not  a  word  of  Latin,  she  taught  him  his  Eton 
Latin  grammar  from  the  first  page  to  the  last ;  took 
him  with  the  aid  of  a  key  through  Arithmetic  and 
Algebra,  intelligence  in  each  case  following  upon 
memory.  Her  discipline  was  so  judicious  that  her 
children  seem  never  to  have  felt  the  possibility 
of  being  other  than  obedient.  Elected  when  seven- 
teen years  old  to  a  Blundell  Scholarship  at  Balliol, 
he  lived  with  strictest  economy.  He  drank  no 
wine,  in  the  coldest  weather  had  no  fire  in  his 


rooms,  obtained  his  Double  First  entirely  without 
private  tuition  ;  a  feat  performed,  it  is  said,  by  only 
one  other  man  in  undergraduate  annals,  the  late 
Bishop  Stubbs.  His  undergraduate  career  coin- 
cided with  the  crisis  of  the  Oxford  Movement :  its 
protagonist  at  Balliol  was  his  Tutor  Ward,  whose 
crushing  logical  insistency  perverted  Clough,  im- 
pelled Newman,  baffled  Tait,  deeply  influenced 
Temple.  He  told  his  anxieties  to  his  mother ;  her 
quiet  response  that  he  should  avoid  all  discussion 
and  think  only  of  his  books  gave  him  timely  help  ;  he 
turned  from  Church  reform,  the  via  media,  and  Tract 
90,  to  the  stern  requirements  of  the  Schools ;  and  his 
Double  First  was  the  result.  After  a  few  years  as 
Balliol  Tutor  he  became  Principal  of  Kneller  Hall, 
then,  Inspector  of  Training  Colleges ;  was  actively 
concerned  with  Canon  Brereton  and  Acland  in 
establishing  the  Oxford  Local  Examinations;  in  1857 
went  as  Head  Master  to  Rugby.  He  found  it  in 
the  trough  of  the  wave ;  came  to  it  an  Arnold 
Redivivus.  The  boys  received  him  with  distrust ; 
feared  from  his  reforming  energy  the  extinction  of 
their  cherished  absurdities  and  inherited  rights ; 
were  startled  by  the  contrast  between  Goulburn, 
placid,  affected,  cassocked,  and  his  successor's 
wide  shirt-front,  rasping  voice,  martial  stride:  old 
Bennett,  the  patriarchal  School  Tonsor,  who  had 
shorn  the  boys'  hair  far  back  into  the  times  of  Dr. 
Wooll,  used  to  relate  the  consternation  with  which 
the  new  Head  Master  was  surveyed  by  Town  and 
School,  as  he  walked  up  from  the  station  in  a 
swallow -tailed  coat,  with  a  carpet-bag  in  his  hand. 
But  the  boys  soon  learned  to  love  the  strong,  just, 


humorous  man,  to  respect  the  illuminating  teacher, 
to  bow  before  the  wonderful  Sunday  sermons, 
which  recalled  to  older  listeners  at  once  Arnold 
and  Newman ;  while  the  discovery  that  he  could 
walk  eighteen  miles  in  three  hours,  and  had 
privately  climbed  for  amusement  all  the  big  elm 
trees  in  the  School  Close,  captured  them  on  their 
athletic  side  :  dislike  gave  way  to  appreciation, 
appreciation  to  hero-worship.  "Temple  is  all 
right,  mother,"  wrote  home  a  Sixth  Form  boy  whose 
parents  had  expressed  alarm  as  to  the  political 
and  religious  influence  of  the  new  Head  Master  ; 
"  Temple  is  all  right ;  but  if  he  turns  Mahometan  all 
the  School  will  turn  too."  So  with  the  Masters  :  those 
already  in  the  School,  who  had  hitherto  resembled 
independent  vassals  under  a  mediaeval  monarch,  at 
once  recognised  the  claims  and  did  homage  to 
the  strength  of  a  suzerain  who  fulfilled  Carlyle's 
conception  of  the  Konig ;  the  new  comers  imbibed 
the  influence  of  his  character,  and  transmitted 
it  to  the  boys. 

Why  did  he  leave  Rugby  after  a  reign  of  only 
twelve  years  ?  Why  exchange  the  freedom,  inde- 
pendence, animating  environment  of  a  great  Head 
Master  for  the  chains  which,  however  gilded,  must 
shackle  an  Anglican  bishop  ?  By  Englishmen 
generally  the  step  was  regarded  as  something  of  a 
descent ;  outside  his  new  diocese  he  was  not  quite 
the  man  he  had  been  before.  But  episcopal 
trappings  did  not  change  him  ;  and  the  power  which 
had  restored  Rugby  soon  renovated  Exeter.  His 
predecessor  had  governed  by  system  and  by  fear ; 
for  machinery  Temple  substituted  life  ;  into  system 


he  infused  the  spirit  of  service.  Confident  in  his 
own  magnetic  will  —  veils  tantummodo,  qucs  tua 
virtus,  expugnabis — he  made  it  his  first  policy  to 
know  and  to  be  known.  Not  only  the  popular 
centres,  but  the  small  towns  and  villages,  thinly 
inhabited  moors  and  scattered  tors,  whose  primi- 
tive tenants  had  never  seen  a  bishop,  faced  the 
virile  personality,  recognised  the  West  Country 
burr,  heard  the  pleadings,  passionate  and  some- 
times tearful,  which  awoke  spiritual  consciousness 
and  stirred  regenerating  resolve.  Laymen  bowed 
before  a  leader  who  could  lead ;  Dissenters  saw  a 
new  Wesley  in  their  midst ;  farmers  were  subju- 
gated by  the  strong  man  who  had  himself  followed 
the  plough ;  clergy,  looking  at  first  distrustfully  upon 
a  bishop  banned  by  a  clerical  Convocation,  were 
shamed,  then  won,  into  acceptance  and  imitation. 
"  Every  clergyman,"  said  Dean  Cowie  after  some 
years  had  passed,  "  is  doing  twice  as  much  as  he  did 
before  ;  and  they  say  it  is  all  your  doing  ;  "  he  had 
not  set  himself  to  gain  them,  but  inevitably  he  gained 
them,  because  from  the  first  he  came  to  serve. 

He  moved  to  London  in  1885  ;  the  loud  and 
universal  sorrow  at  his  departure  reviving  a  doubt 
frequently  expressed,  whether  the  translation  of  an 
approved  and  popular  prelate,  except  possibly  to  a 
Primacy,  is  not  in  all  cases  a  mistake.  He  there 
strode  into  the  heart  of  his  work,  treading  on  the 
toes  of  men  more  sensitive  than  were  the  com- 
paratively Boeotian  clergy  whom  he  had  left  behind 
in  Devonshire.  Heroes  built  like  him,  "temples 
without  polished  corners,"  come  amongst  us  as  his 
Master  came,  el?  /cpiaiv,  to  test  capacity  of  discern- 


ment,  to  attract  nobleness,  repel  superficiality  and 
pettiness.  Men  priggish,  self-complacent,  languid, 
or  unreal,  disliked  him  cordially ;  the  House  of 
Lords  never  to  the  last  accepted  him ;  men  high 
minded,  genuine,  spiritually  akin,  found  him  out 
and  were  drawn  to  him  at  once.  Dr.  Gore  glorified 
in  receiving  from  him  a  not  unmerited  snub.  "  We 
have  a  man  here,"  said  Capel  Cure,  listening  to  his 
somewhat  stern  repulse  of  irrelevant  clerical  criti- 
cism. "If  he  sometimes  treated  us  like  school- 
boys," said  another,  "  we  deserved  it,  and  were  all 
the  better  for  being  back  in  school  again." 

His  recorded  sayings,  pithy  or  humorous,  help 
out  our  conception  of  the  man.  Such  are  his — 
"You  cannot  grow  genius,  but  you  can  grow 
talent ; "  "  it  is  not  knowledge  chiefly,  but  char- 
acter, that  England  wants  ; "  "  they  wish  me  to 
formulate  a  policy ;  I  don't  believe  in  formulated 
policies ;  "  "  one  is  brought  through  somehow  if 
one  always  does  one's  best;"  "help  in  work  is 
something ;  I  want  companionship  more."  Some 
of  his  dicta  are  in  a  lighter  mood.  "I  am  very 
pleased,  my  Lord,"  began  a  Very  Reverend  at  a 
missionary  meeting.  "  You  are  not,"  snapped  the 
chairman,  who  had  taught  English  Grammar  in 
his  day;  "you  are  very  much  pleased."  "Wher- 
ever I  go,  they  give  me  cold  chicken  and  'the 
Church's  one  foundation/  and  I  hate  both."  "  My 
aunt  was  prevented  from  sailing  in  a  ship  which 
sank  ;  would  you  not,  my  Lord,  call  that  a  provi- 
dential interposition  ?  "  "  Can't  tell,  did  not  know 
your  aunt."  A  vicar,  pointing  to  a  Nonconformist 
Chapel — "That,  my  Lord,  is  where  all  the  people 



go."  Bishop,  turning  on  him— " WHY?"  His 
rough  speeches  sometimes  looked  brutal  in  print, 
but  were  not  so  when  tempered  by  the  merry  smile 
which  softened  them.  He  had  a  natural  inborn 
heartiness,  Goethe's  Hoftlichkeit  des  Herzens,  the 
politeness  of  helpful  benevolent  good  feeling ;  he 
was  never  ill-natured  or  cynical ;  the  smooth  mask 
of  conventional  courtesy  he  could  not  wear.  "  I 
hate  civility,  don't  you  ?  " 

His  last  public  appearance  many  of  us  would 
gladly  forget.  "That  he  should  have  been  so  domi- 
nated by  his  surpliced  legions,"  wrote  to  me  one  of 
his  most  devoted  friends  and  colleagues,  "as  to 
accept  Balfour's  Education  Bill,  and  then  to  be 
cut  short  by  fatal  illness  before  he  poured  out  his 
whole  soul  in  favour  of  making  common  cause 
with  united  Christianity,  is  the  tragedy  of  his  life." 
Yet  to  the  old  among  us  he  stands  out  as  a  man 
nobler  than  his  fellows,  laborious,  disinterested, 
self-reliant,  with  a  grand  conception  of  this  life, 
a  clear  vision  of  the  next ;  and  the  character  has 
no  less  its  special  meaning  for  the  young.  "  The 
air  of  perpetual  Spring  blows  round  his  grave  ;  the 
thought  of  him  speaks  reality  and  hope ;  and  these 
are  the  memories  which  live." 

The  changes  of  Oxford  life  are  swift ;  the  water 
flows  fast  under  Folly  Bridge  ;  and  to  the  present 
generation  T.  H.  Green  is  little  more  than  a  name. 
Yet  before  his  early  death  he  had  attained  a  repute 
and  wielded  an  influence  in  the  University  which 
no  one  has  since  surpassed.  His  namesake  the 
historian,  coming  up  to  Oxford  and  invited  by  him 
to  dinner,  sent  word  that  "the  shadow  would  gladly 


wait  upon  the  substance";  a  distinguished  states- 
man still  living,  who  has  perhaps  by  this  time 
outgrown  his  youthful  enthusiam,  made  a  rever- 
ential pilgrimage  to  Green's  birthplace  ;  and  the 
philosopher  figures  in  "  Robert  Elsmere "  as  the 
infallible  guide  and  oracle  of  his  day  to  all  who 
were  mentally  doubtful,  struggling,  and  distressed. 
His  outward  life  was  devoid  of  incident :  he  repre- 
sents the  history  of  a  mind,  inert  and  slow  at  first, 
feeding  on  its  own  thoughts,  not  on  the  thoughts  of 
others ;  a  plant  growing,  not  a  brick  being  moulded. 
Both  as  schoolboy  and  undergraduate  he  was  out 
of  touch  with  his  surroundings ;  he  was  influenced 
at  Oxford  by  Jowett,  Conington,  Charles  Parker, 
and  by  no  one  else ;  the  only  authors  who  in- 
spired him  were  Wordsworth,  Carlyle,  Maurice,  and 
Fichte.  He  cared  little  for  literary  scholarship, 
nothing  for  academic  distinction  ;  his  passion  was 
for  philosophy  and  metaphysics,  as  ministering  to 
the  problems  of  life  which  alone  he  deemed  worth 
solving.  Rival  philosophers  professed  to  see  a 
fundamental  incoherence  in  his  thoughts ;  and  the 
necessary  complexities  of  language  which  ham- 
pered their  expression  were  ridiculed  in  an  amusing 
verse  of  the  "  Masque  of  Balliol."  But  he  helped 
to  form  the  highest  minds  amongst  his  contempo- 
raries ;  and  those  who  now  read  the  chapter  of  his 
biography  called  "  Religious  Principles  "  will  under- 
stand the  height  of  habitual  exaltation  to  which 
he  soared ;  an  abiding  grasp  of  the  Unseen,  of 
Christianity,  of  the  spiritual  life,  of  human  duty, 
before  which  the  dogmatic  materialism  of  polemic 
sects  and  schisms  dwindles  into  littleness. 



",'Tis  opportune  to  look  back  upon  old  times:  great  examples 
groiv  thin,  and  to  be  fetched  from  the  past  world" 


President    Ingram  —  Guillemard  —  Lord    Ward  —  Isaac    Williams  — 
Monsignor  Patterson — Fred.  Meyrick — Tommy  Short. 

I  WAS  one  day  in  company  with  a  distinguished 
Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  Mention 
happened  to  be  made  of  an  interesting  Roman 
dignitary  lately  dead,  and  I  recalled  him  as  in  my 
early  days  a  "  Fellow  of  Trinity."  The  Cambridge 
Don  looked  up  surprised  and  doubtful,  so  I  hastened, 
amid  the  great  amusement  of  the  company,  to 
explain  that  there  exists  at  Oxford  a  College  which 
presumes  to  bear  that  name,  and  that  to  this 
College  Monsignor  Patterson  had  belonged.  To 
be  sure,  our  Trinity  cannot  hang  over  its  high 
table  portraits  of  Bacon  and  Newton,  nor  have  its 
recent  Heads  ranked  with  Whewell  for  omni- 
science or  for  wit"  with  Thompson  ;  but  it  has 
played  a  famous  part,  and  to  my  own  memory  it 
is  fragrant.  Its  President  in  my  early  days  was 
Ingram,  antiquary,  Anglo-Saxon  scholar,  author  of 
a  finely  illustrated  tl  Memorials  of  Oxford."  I 
recall  him  as  a  feeble  old  gentleman,  bent  nearly 

double,  preserving  and  relating  anecdotes,  tradi- 



tional  and  personal,  of  College  heroes  in  the  past 
—of  Tom  Warton,  Budgell,  Lisle  Bowles,  Kett. 
He  succeeded  stately  Dr.  Chapman,  whose  daughter, 
my  shrewd  old  neighbour  in  Holywell,  surviving 
her  father  more  than  half  a  century,  with  sixty 
years  of  Oxford  prattle  at  her  fluent  tongue's  end, 
was  run  over  and  killed  by  a  cricketing  brake  in 
the  early  sixties.  Ingram  was  a  Wykehamist,  and 
dined  always  at  our  New  College  Gaudy,  invariably 
in  his  after-dinner  speech  making  modest  allusion 
to  "my  little  work."  Of  his  Fellows  I  remember 
Guillemard,  the  non-placeting  Proctor,  along  with 
Church,  of  1845;  Copeland,  earliest  disciple  and 
latest  friend  of  Newman ;  Claughton,  tutor  to 
young  Lord  Ward,  whose  sister  he  married,  was 
presented  by  him  to  the  valuable  living  of  Kidder- 
minster, and  became  Bishop  of  Rochester.  Lord 
Ward,  afterwards  Lord  Dudley,  was  conspicuous 
by  his  beautiful  face  and  long  waving  hair,  which 
the  Paris  ladies  imitated  on  their  own  heads  by 
crimping-irons.  He  used  to  come  to  my  father's 
accompanied  by  an  enormous  dog,  on  which  one 
day  he  perched  my  brother,  afterwards  Dr.  Tuck- 
well,  then,  like  the  hero  of  "  Boots  at  the  Swan,"  a 
"very  little  boy,"  and  trotted  him  round  the  hall. 
Amongst  the  Fellows  too  was  Isaac  Williams, 
whose  project  of  "Tracts  for  the  Times,"  hatched 
with  Hurrell  Froude  under  the  trees  in  Trinity 
Garden,  brought  Newman  back  from  Italy  and 
began  the  Oxford  Movement.  Williams  came  up 
from  Harrow  with  the  reputation  of  a  finished 
Latin  scholar,  and  won  the  Latin  Verse,  "Ars 
Geologica,"  in  1823.  W.  G.  Cole  used  to  relate 


that,  being  Pro-proctor  in  this  year,  and  keeping 
one  of  the  Theatre  gates  at  Commemoration,  he 
was  annoyed  by  the  pertinacity  of  a  stranger, 
who  insisted  on  taking  the  place  by  storm.  Cole 
gripped  him,  and  asked  his  name.  "  My  name  is 
Williams,  sir ;  my  son  has  a  Prize,  and  I  want  to 
hear  him  recite  his  poem."  Of  course  Cole  passed 
him  in.  Double  honours  were  expected  for  Isaac ; 
but  his  health  broke  down,  and  by  Abernethy's 
order  he  was  contented  with  a  Pass;  recovering, 
however,  to  obtain  a  Trinity  Fellowship.  He  was, 
under  the  signature  f,  one  of  the  six  writers  in  the 
"  Lyra  Apostolica,"  and  was  the  author  also  of 
Tract  80,  on  "  Reserve  in  Religious  Teaching."  I 
well  remember  the  exciting  contest  between  him 
and  Garbett  for  the  Poetry  Professorship  in  1841-2. 
No  one  denied  that  he  was  the  better  man ;  but  an 
unwise  circular  of  Pusey's,  provoking  a  dexterous 
response  from  Gilbert,  gave  a  theological  character 
to  the  election.  The  commotion  spread  far  and 
wide ;  the  London  papers  took  it  up,  ranging 
themselves  on  what  was  now  first  called  the  "Anti- 
Tractarian "  side.  The  silent  but  growing  alarm 
excited  by  the  Tracts  found  expression  in  support 
of  Garbett,  and  a  comparison  of  promised  votes 
showing  Williams  to  be  in  the  minority,  he  with- 
drew, married  soon  after,  and  left  Oxford.  A  story 
was  told  of  him  later,  for  the  correctness  of  which 
I  do  not  vouch.  He  had  an  unaccountable  anti- 
pathy to  Jews,  and  resented  the  Hebrew  Christian 
name  which  his  sponsors  had  inflicted  on  him ;  his 
children,  at  any  rate,  should  bear  homely  modern 
prcenomina,  A  son  was  born  to  him,  John  Keble 



was  its  godfather,  and  it  was  baptized  John  Edward. 
Nothing,  he  thought,  could  be  more  free  from  an 
Israelite  taint,  though  in  the  first  name  misgivings 
might  have  lurked  ;  until,  too  late,  he  discovered 
that  the  child's  initials  would  be  J.  E.  W.  His 
autobiography,  published  after  his  death,  throws  a 
curious  sidelight  on  Newman's  character,  not  found 
in  any  other  notice  of  the  "  Movement."  He  was  a 
humble,  self-distrusting,  saintly  being,  cast  in  the 
Keble,  not  the  Newman,  type.  Of  his  numerous 
works  in  prose  and  poetry  it  is  likely  that  one  alone 
will  survive,  his  "Gospel  Narrative  of  our  Lord's 
Passion."  In  the  "Cathedral,"  the  "Christian 
Scholar,"  above  all  in  the  "  Baptistery,"  are  strains 
of  genuine  poetry,  yet  for  the  most  part  careless 
in  structure  and  lacking  condensation ;  but  the 
tenderness,  scriptural  insight,  infusion  with  the 
best  patristic  feeling,  of  the  "  Passion "  seems  to 
me  to  leave  far  behind  all  other  English  devotional 

"Monsignor"  Patterson,  who  left  us — absquatu- 
lated, as  Manuel  Johnson  used  to  say  —  with 
Manning  and  others  in  the  second  Hegira,  was  a 
man  learned,  genial,  musical,  and  a  charming  talker. 
I  recall  his  enraptured  face  once  in  New  College 
chapel,  when  the  choristers,  at  all  times  cantare 
pares,  were  led  by  Miss  Hawes,  a  London  vocalist 
who  had  come  down  for  an  Oxford  concert,  and 
who,  attending  chapel,  added  her  fine  soprano  to 
the  music.  He  used  to  give  evening  parties  in  his 
rooms,  to  which  his  friends  were  warned  to  bring 
only  "  men  as  can  talk  and  men  as  can  sing,"  so  he 
used  to  put  it.  Some  years  later  I  met  him  in 


Dublin  ;  and  was  touched  as  I  have  often  been 
in  company  with  Newman's  fugitives,  by  his 
pathetically  eager  recurrence,  as  of  a  homesick 
exile,  to  Oxford  memories  and  names  and  incidents. 
I  cannot  myself,  even  now,  without  a  pang  recall 
that  ancient  time.  These  men  were  for  the  most 
part  the  flower  of  the  Anglican  as  of  the  Oxford 
flock;  none  can  estimate  their  loss  to  the  University, 
to  the  Church,  to  the  community ;  and,  through 
the  consequent  narrowing  of  their  careers,  to  them- 
selves. Men  of  piety,  intellect,  note,  remained ; 
but  the  heart  had  gone  out  of  the  Movement ;  it 
declined,  as  Liddon  used  sadly  to  acknowledge 
and  bewail,  from  aspirations  to  observances  :  its 
beneficent  constructive  side,  its  exuberant  energy, 
unworldly  mysticism,  studious  enthusiasm,  leisured 
erudition,  passionate  self-devotion,  passed  into 
channels  not  shaped  and  not  available  for  their 
distribution.  In  religion  as  in  politics,  the  pos- 
session of  commanding  influence  is  a  fearful  gift. 
"  Bad  men,"  says  a  great  satirist,  "  are  bad,  do  the 
bad,  go  to  the  bad  ;  but  who  shall  measure  the 
abiding  mischief  which  a  very  good  man  can  do  ?  " 
Residents  at  Oxford  in  the  later  Forties  were 
frequently  aware  of  a  very  good-looking  junior  Don 
taking  his  walks  abroad  with  young  Lord  Robert 
Cecil,  Lord  Lothian,  his  brother  Schomberg,  and 
others  of  ihejeunesse  surdoree}  who  apparently  looked 
up  to  him  as  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend.  It  was 
Frederick  Meyrick,  a  lately  elected  Fellow  of  Trinity. 
We  thought  that  a  man  starting  with  qualifica- 
tions so  marked,  academic,  social,  personal,  must 
become  a  shining  University  light :  but  he  married, 


became  a  School  Inspector,  for  a  time  disappeared, 
then  suddenly  came  into  notice  during  the  horrida 
bella  between  Newman  and  Charles  Kingsley,  as 
author  of  a  pamphlet  bearing  the  cumbrous  title 
— "But  isn't  Kingsley  right  after  all  ?"  It  was  a 
rather  vigorous  production,  touching  with  an 
Ithuriel  spear  of  common  sense  Newman's  dex- 
terous subterfuge  and  Kingsley's  bungling  in- 
competence ;  and  it  won  Gladstone's  admiring 
approbation.  It  had  no  effect  upon  the  public 
mind ;  men  could  not  all  appreciate  reasoning ; 
they  could  all  enjoy  the  "Apologia"  to  which  the 
controversy  gave  rise.  Kingsley  was  entirely  dis- 
credited, and  for  several  years  the  sale  of  his  books 

fell  off. 

Exchanging  his  School  Inspectorship  for  a  living, 
Meyrick  devoted  himself  to  theological  controversy. 
More  than  fifty  pamphlets  stand  against  his  name 
in  the  British  Museum  Catalogue  :  he  contributed 
also  to  countless  "  religious  "  Journals,  and  edited 
seventeenth  century  Treatises.  A  wide  traveller, 
an  accomplished  linguist,  a  practised  disputant,  he 
wrote  on  the  Church  of  Spain,  on  the  morality  of 
Liguori,  on  Italian  clerical  legends,  on  Vaticanism, 
on  Irish  Church  Missions.  He  was  a  friend  and 
supporter  of  Dollinger,  a  vehement  opponent  of 
Manning,  of  Huxley,  of  Pattison,  of  Jowett. 

How  could  such  a  man  escape  promotion  ?  His 
youthful  friend,  afterwards  Lord  Salisbury,  quar- 
relled with  him  when  in  1865  he  voted  for  Gladstone 
at  Oxford,  and  his  displeasure  was  possibly  perma- 
nent. But  what  was  Gladstone  about,  in  his  numerous 
Episcopal  creations,  to  pass  over  a  man  so  like- 


minded,  so  active,  and  above  all  so  safe  ?  Perhaps 
it  was  as  well  for  Meyrick  :  endowment  with  mitral 
consequence  might  not  have  compensated  for  de- 
terioration of  moral  fibre  :  anyhow,  he  remained 
Vicar  of  Blickling  till  his  death.  Dignified,  learned, 
pious,  with  high  College  honours  and  good  social 
position,  he  preserved  the  old  type  of  humanistic 
University  training  in  the  past.  Intransigent  in 
youth,  and  sturdy  to  the  end,  he  remained  through 
life  a  faithful  champion  of  lost  and  losing  causes. 
Respecting  his  fidelity  to  convictions  which  he  had 
not  idly  formed,  we  appreciate  him  as  type  of  a  class 
essential  probably  to  the  progressive  development 
of  its  time,  extinct  and  perhaps  impossible  to-day. 

But  the  prominent  representive  of  Trinity  irH 
those  days  was  its  Vice- President,  "  Tommy  "  Short, 
who  had  been  College  Tutor  when  the  century  was 
in  its  teens,  and  was  to  continue  lecturing  into  the 
late  Sixties.  He  knew  his  books  by  heart,  expound- 
ing them  with  fluency  and  humour ;  he  ranked 
with  the  best  Oxford  whist-players,  and  kept  a 
spacious  cellar  of  old  port  wine,  including,  I  re- 
member, a  pipe  which  he  had  bought  from  a 
Dissenting  wine  merchant,  and  labelled  "  Schismatic 
Binn."  But  he  was  especially  notable  as  a  con- 
versationalist, the  last,  perhaps,  to  represent  the 
colloquial  felicities  which  constituted  a  fine  art  in 
Oxford  once,  and  are  to-day  recalled  sadly  as  a  lost 
art  by  superannuates  like  myself.  Talk  such  as  his 
can  hardly  be  reproduced  ;  unforced,  condensed, 
epigrammatic,  crisp,  yet  at  the  same  time  voluble,  it 
becomes  vapid  when  severed  from  its  a  propos, 
loses  point  unless  verbally  repeated  ;  lacks  above  all  *' 


the  twinkling  eye  and  incisive  nasal  tones  of  its 
^originator.  Yet  some  of  his  sayings  I  remember, 
and  his  friend  Dr.  Plutnmer  has  kindly  furnished 
me  with  not  a  few  besides.  Once,  when  I  breakfasted 
in  his  rooms  with  Walter  Thursby,  known  after- 
wards as  the  first  Englishman  to  reach  the  summit 
of  Mount  Ararat,  he  told  us  that,  examining  in  the 
Schools  the  day  before,  he  had  asked  what  mention 
is  made  of  Marriage  in  the  Articles ;  to  which  the 
scholar  "answered  briskly,  that  it  is  a  fond  thing 
vainly  invented,  without  any  warrant  either  in 
antiquity  or  Scripture."  This  scaling  of  Ararat,  by- 
the-bye,  attracted  much  attention  at  the  time. 
Thursby,  who  had  just  taken  his  degree,  was  travel- 
ling with  another  Trinity  man,  "white"  Theobald 
he  was  called ;  and  though  not  practised  climbers, 
they  successfully  assailed  the  biblical  height.  They 
found  the  snow  in  favourable  condition,  and  the 
infames  scopulos  undeserving  of  their  bad  repute ; 
but  the  marauding  tribes  haunting  the  hillside 
rendered  necessary  a  guard  of  Kurdish  soldiers. 
"  I  understand,"  said  Arthur  Ridding,  when  in  New 
College  Common  Room  they  told  the  story  of  their 
exploit ;  "  I  understand,  you  took  some  Curds  with 
you  to  show  the  whey." 

I  return  to  dear  old  Short.  Cole  of  Worcester — 
"  Papirius  Carbo,"  Short  always  called  him — went 
to  Short  before  taking  his  degree  to  read  aloud  the 
Articles,  as  was  then  customary.  While  he  read, 
Short  moved  about  apparently  unheeding,  arranged 
papers  and  gave  instructions  to  his  scout.  But  he 
was  not  inattentive ;  when  Cole  read  from  the 
Article  on  the  Old  Testament  about  the  "com- 


mandments  which  are  called  moral,"  Short  stopped 
him  to  inquire  which  were  the  commandments 
called  immoral.  He  held  together  with  his  Fellow- 
ship the  cure  of  St.  Nicholas,  Abingdon.  Sanday  of 
Trinity  took  the  duty  one  day,  and  came  to  him  for 
instructions.  Said  Short,  "  I  feed  my  flock  with  hay 
and  straw  (prayers  and  sermon)  in  the  morning, 
hay  only  in  the  afternoon."  He  used  to  dine  and 
play  a  rubber  at  a  house  near  Oxford.  He  sat  next 
to  a  learned  lady,  whom  he  knew  to  be  well  on  the 
further  side  of  fifty.  "  Pray,  Mr.  Short,"  she  said, 
"  when  does  the  human  mind  reach  maturity  ?  "  He 
answered,  "  Aristotle  says,  at  forty-nine  ;  and  what 
a  blue  you  will  be  when  you  reach  that  age." 
Arriving  late  at  the  same  house,  he  learned  that  the 
famous  preacher  Hugh  M'Neile  had  unexpectedly 
come  upon  a  visit,  and  that  whist  was  to  be  sup- 
planted by  a  Scripture  reading  and  exposition. 
Very  cross,  he  sat  to  endure.  Boanerges  read  a 
passage  from  the  Acts:  "They  knew  that  the 

island  was  called  Mellta."  "The  d they  did!" 

was  heard  from  Short's  corner.  Dining  at  another 
hospitable  house,  he  became  sleepy,  and  let  the 
decanters  pass.  "  Mr.  Short,"  his  host  remon- 
strated, "  that  is  Comet  Port."  [The  Comet  year, 
1811,  yielded  the  finest  vintage  of  the  century.] 
"  Oh,  is  it  ?  then,  comitatis  causa,  I  will  take  a 
glass."  When  Goulburn,  Head  Master  of  Rugby, 
was  expecting  the  deanery  of  Exeter,  Otter  of 
Corpus  naughtily  proposed  to  insert  his  biography 
in  The  Times,  specifying  the  number  of  boys  he 
found  at  the  school,  and  the  loss  which  his  reign 
had  caused.  "  No,"  said  Short,  "  that  would  not  be 


biography,  but  boyography."  Himself  a  Master  at 
Rugby  under  Dr.  Wooll,  Arnold's  predecessor,  he 
was  asked  by  Lord  Lyttelton,  Rugbean  and  a  Trustee, 
to  furnish  a  motto  for  the  flogging  school.  "  Great 
cry  and  little  Wooll/'  was  the  answer  :  Wooll  was 
a  diminutive  man.  Short  used  to  say  that  at 
Rugby  and  at  Oxford  he  had  been  concerned  with 
more  than  a  thousand  pupils ;  and  that  for  every 
one  foolish  boy  he  had  found  two  foolish  parents. 
The  school  physician  of  his  time,  a  Dr.  Bucknill, 
known  as  "  Hip-Hip  Bucknill,"  was  a  Character. 
A  boy  was  ill,  and  to  Rugby  came  the  mother  in 
alarm.  "Doctor,  is  there  any  danger  ?"  " There 
is  always  danger  when  there  is  illness."  "But  can 
you  do  anything  for  him  ?  "  "I  can't  say,  Take  up 
your  bed  and  walk."  "  No,  but,  Doctor,  do  tell  me 
how  he  really  is;  my  husband  is  so  very  anxious  that 
I  should  return  to  him."  if  So  should  I  be,  madam, 
were  I  your  husband." 

"Tommy"    Sheppard    of    Exeter    used   to    ride 

with    Miss   Susan  .      Near  Godstow  one  day 

his  horse  jibbed  and  threw  him  into  the  water. 
While  the  lady  sat  in  her  saddle  and  laughed  at 
his  struggles  to  scramble  out,  Short  passed  by. 
He  stopped,  and  said,  "This  time  the  elder  is  in 
the  water,  and  Susanna  is  looking  at  him."  When 
in  his  younger  days  the  College  living  of  Oddington 
fell,  Miss  Lee,  the  President's  daughter,  asked  him 
whether  he  meant  to  take  it.  "  Will  you  go  with 
me?"  "No."  "Then  I  shall  not  take  it;  but 
you  can't  say  you  never  had  an  offer."  When 
eleven  years  later  Rotherfield  Grays  was  vacant, 
the  lady  gave  him,  and  herself,  another  chance,  by 


repeating  the  former  question.     "  No,"  said  Short, 
"as   you  wouldn't   go   with   me   to   Oddington,   I 
sha'n't    go    without    you    to    Rotherfield    Grays." 
Suffering  from  what  Horace  calls  tumults  in  the 
stomach,  he  went   to   consult   Jephson   at   Leam- 
ington.     "Your  colon  is  out  of  order."      "So   I 
guessed,  but  I  want  you  to  prevent  it  from  coming 
to  a  full  stop."    Some  one  remarked  that  the  child 
of  two  unusually  ugly  parents  was  a  very  pretty 
baby.     "  Then,"  said  Short,  "  it  must  be  a  bastard 
on  both  sides."     A  scout  was  dismissed  for  inso- 
lence :  he  came  to  Short.     "  I  never  thought,  Mr. 
Short,  that  you  would  take  the  bread  out  of  a  poor 
man's  mouth."      "  I    take  the   bread  out   of   your 
louth  ?   why,  you  fool,  you  spat  it  out."     When 
Plumptre  became  Vice-Chancellor  in  1848,  Short 
stopped   him  in  the  street.      "  Now,   Master,  you 
will   have  to  sport  a  cassock.      Make  use  of  the 
opportunity  to  wear  out  your  old  pairs  of  black 
trousers."      His   own   were   sometimes    shrunken. 
Crossing  the  Quad,  he  overheard   two  undergra- 
duates commenting  on  "the  brevity  of  Tommy's 
trousers."     "  Yes,  you  young  jackanapes,  Tommy's 
trousers  are  like  you,  they  want  taking  down  and 
strapping."     He  rebuked  a  youngster  for  smoking 
a  regalia  in  the  High  Street.     "Please,  Mr.  Short, 
how  did  you  know  it  was  a  regalia  ?  "     "  Young 
man,  it   is   the   business  of   a   Tutor  to  know  all 
wickedness  and  practise  none."     A  Trinity  Scholar 
who  got  only  a  Second  Class  wrote  to  Short  that 
he  feared  it  was  his  duty  to  resign  his  Scholarship. 

"  Take  my  compliments  to  Mr.  ,"  Short  said 

to    his    scout,    "and    tell    him    that    if    he    comes 


into  chapel  without  a  surplice  I  shall  fine  him  a 
pound."  Only  Fellows  and  Scholars  wore  sur- 
plices. Another  repartee  is  somewhat  grim,  but 
too  characteristic  to  be  omitted.  An  under- 
graduate had  debauched  a  girl  in  humble  life, 
was  penitent,  wished  to  marry  her,  and  with 
singularly  bad  judgment  consulted  Short. 

"  Cato's  a  proper  person  to  entrust 
A  love-tale  with  ;  " 

"  if  you  marry  her,"  said  his  oracle,  "  you  are  a 
fool ;  if  you  don't  marry  her,  you  are  a  black- 
guard ;  in  either  case  you  will  cease  to  be  a 
member  of  this  College." 

Short  had  a  horror  of  fasting,  as  ruinous  to 
health.  "  I  remember  not  many  years  ago  when 
there  were  eighteen  Tractarian  undergraduates  in 
this  College.  I  threw  not  only  cold  water,  but 
dirty  water,  on  their  ascetic  practices,  and  they 
mostly  discontinued  them."  And  he  used  to  tell 
how  Newman's  failure  in  the  Schools  was  due  to 
an  idea  he  had  taken  up,  that  the  more  he  re- 
duced his  body  the  better  his  mind  would  work. 
He  went  in  half-starved,  and  broke  down  right 
and  left.  He  had  not  even  read  the  Third  Book  of 
Aldrich,  and  knew  next  to  nothing  of  the  ALneid, 
while  his  Mathematical  Papers,  Ben  Symons  told 
Short,  were  scrawled  over  unintelligibly  ;  one  pro- 
blem, however,  being  worked  out  with  remarkable 
ingenuity.  The  marvel  was  that  the  examiners 
passed  him  at  all ;  they  placed  him  as  low  as 
they  could,  in  the  Second  Division  of  the  Second 
Class,  "  under  the  line,"  as  it  was  then  contemptu- 


ously  called.  "  My  nerves  forsook  me,  and  I 
failed,"  was  his  own  account  of  the  disaster  in 
writing  home.  It  was  a  severe  blow  to  his  Oxford  * 
friends,  who  had  calculated  with  certainty  on  his 
obtaining  the  highest  honours ;  and  they  were 
hardly  less  startled  when  only  a  year  afterwards 
he  stood  for  an  Oriel  Fellowship,  at  that  time 
the  blue  ribbon  of  University  distinction.  The 
moment  was  singularly  unpropitious  ;  in  the  pre- 
ceding year  Oriel,  which  prided  itself  on  electing 
its  Fellows  according  to  their  prowess  and  promise 
in  the  examination  rather  than  by  their  previous 
exploits  in  the  Schools,  had  chosen  a  Second  Class 
man,  C.  J.  Plumer,  over  the  head  of  a  First  Class 
man,  George  Howard,  afterwards  Lord  Morpeth  ; 
and  had  been  savagely  attacked  in  the  Edinburgh 
Review  (by  the  unsuccessful  candidate,  as  Cople- 
ston  discovered)  for  preferring  mediocrity  to  excel- 
lence. Copleston  and  his  Fellows  could  afford  to 
ignore  the  censure,  yet  it  must  tend  to  make  them 
wary ;  and  their  selection  of  a  man  whose  failure 
was  notorious  and  recent  might  seem  to  justify* 
the  vilipendings  of  the  Edinburgh.  Short,  how- 
ever, who  knew  what  was  in  his  pupil,  pressed 
Newman  to  stand ;  he  might  not  succeed,  but  he 
would  show  his  power,  and  retrieve  the  last  year's 
collapse.  Thus  fortified,  Newman  offered  himself. 
"He  came  to  me,"  Short  said,  "after  the  first 
paper,  which  was  an  Essay,  and  said  that  he  had 
made  of  it  a  complete  mess — had  broken  down 
entirely.  Now  I  had  just  seen  Tyler,  one  of  the 
Fellows,  who  said,  '  Tell  me  something  about  your 
man  Newman  ;  his  is  by  far  the  best  Essay  we 


have  had.'  Of  course  I  did  not  tell  this  to  New- 
man, but  I  said  to  him,  '  You  go  on  with  the  exa- 
mination, and  work  through  as  if  you  had  no 
chance  and  were  only  an  unconcerned  spec- 
tator.' '  Short  was  lunching  at  the  time,  and, 
like  the  judicious  angel  visitant  to  Elijah,  made 
his  emaciated  pupil  eat  and  drink — "  Arise  and 
eat,  for  the  journey  is  too  long  for  thee" — send- 
ing him  away  strengthened  in  mind  as  well  as 
body  by  a  plentiful  and  savoury  meal.  It  was 
an  object  of  great  importance  to  Newman  at  that 
time  to  obtain  a  Fellowship,  for  his  father,  a 
brewer  at  Alton,  had  failed.  While  the  examina- 
tion was  proceeding,  Short  had  occasion  to  call 
on  Copleston,  and  took  the  opportunity  of  telling 
him  that  Newman  was  a  highly  deserving  man, 
and  that  the  circumstances  of  his  family  were 
such  as  to  make  a  Fellowship  very  desirable. 
The  Provost  thanked  him  for  the  information, 
saying  that  such  considerations  were  not  alto- 
gether without  weight  in  their  elections.  On  the 
next  day  Short  went  into  the  country  ;  riding 
back  to  Oxford  soon  afterwards,  he  stopped  at 
Shipstone  to  bait  his  horse,  and  taking  up  an 
Oxford  paper  read,  "  Yesterday  Mr.  John  Henry 
Newman  of  Trinity  College  was  elected  Fellow  of 
Oriel."  When  asked  about  his  old  pupil  in  later 
days,  he  used  to  say,  "  Newman  was  a  very 
amenable  fellow  ;  he  did  jib  occasionally,  but  we 
all  liked  him  very  much.  He  was  a  wonderful 
divine  in  his  undergraduate  days.  I  can  remember 
his  bringing  the  Book  of  Psalms  into  Collections, 
and  when  we  asked  him  to  name  the  prophetical 


psalms,  he  started  with  the  second,  and  went 
through  them  all.  Oh  dear  !  he  used  to  run  you 
down  with  his  answers.  He  played  the  violin, 
too,  very  well,  and  often  took  a  part  in  quartetts 
at  President  Lee's  musical  parties."  Short  himself 
was  musical.  I  recall  him  one  evening  in  Dr. 
Bliss's  drawing-room,  to  which  he  came  attired  in 
black  pantaloons,  grey  silk  stockings,  and  silver- 
buckled  shoes,  sitting  cross-legged  at  the  feet  of 
Mrs.  Wingfield,  an  accomplished  pianist,  and  re- 
proaching her  because  she  played  only  modern 
music.  The  lady  pleaded  that  the  age  was  tired 
of  the  old  music.  "  Correct  the  age,"  he  answered 
in  his  nasal  tones,  and  his  friend,  moving  to  the 
piano,  played  for  him  a  fine  piece  by  Scarlatti. 

Once  only  after  Newman's  secession  he  and 
Short  met,  when  the  Cardinal  visited  Oxford  in 
1878,  and  dined  at  Trinity  high  table  on  February 
27.  Short  was  too  feeble  to  go  into  Hall,  but 
Newman  went  to  his  rooms.  "  I  asked  him 
whether  he  remembered  lunching  with  me  during 
the  Oriel  Examination.  'Yes,'  he  said,  'and  I 
remember  what  you  had  for  luncheon  ;  it  was  lamb 
cutlets  and  fried  parsley.' '  This  pleased  Short 
much,  and  the  two  agreed  that  Short  had  in- 
fluenced Newman's  life  more  than  any  man  ;  since, 
but  for  Short,  Newman  would  have  retired  from 
the  examination,  while  success  in  that  formed  the 
foundation  of  his  whole  career.  Until  his  own 
death  Newman  said  a  mass  for  Short  every  year. 

A  touch  of  soberness  falls  upon  the  old  Vice- 
President's  closing  days.  He  became  blind  to- 
wards the  end,  and  was  led  about  the  streets. 


Returning  once  to  Oxford  after  years  of  absence, 
and  meeting  him  in  the  Turl,  I  stopped  him. 
"  My  father's  son  must  shake  you  by  the  hand." 
« Who  is  it?"  "Tuckwell."  "Which  of  them?" 
"The  eldest."  "Oh  yes,  the  Master  of  Taunton 
school.  Well,  now,  remember  that  what  TroXvirpay- 
is  to  men  of  business,  that  is  770X^X07- 
to  a  schoolmaster."  I  thought  of  a  printer's 
error  which  made  Moberly  miserable  in  a  pub- 
lished sermon  preached  by  him  at  St.  Mary's  just 
before  going  to  Winchester,  whereby  the  sentence, 
<<We  must  revive  our  flagging  energies,"  became, 
rather  too  appropriately,  "We  must  revive  our 
flogging  energies."  T.  L.  Claughton  used  to  relate 
that  after  becoming  Bishop  of  Rochester  he  met 
Short  one  day  at  the  President's.  After  dinner  the 
two  strolled  in  the  garden,  and  as  soon  as  they  were 
screened  from  the  windows  Short  went  down  on 
his  knees,  and  said,  "  Claughton,  give  me  your 
blessing."  "  I  was  very  much  moved,"  said 
Claughton,  telling  the  story  afterwards  to  Dr. 
Plummer.  To  the  same  old  friend  Short  said  once, 
"College  rooms  are  very  good  to  live  in,  but  very 
bad  to  die  in."  He  died,  not  in  College,  but  some- 
where near  Birmingham,  in  1879.  Deus  sit  pro- 
pitius  huic potatori  ! 



"  The  Pelican  kindly  for  her  tender  brood 
Tears  her  own  bowels^  trilleth  out  her  blood 
To  heal  her  young:  and  in  a  wondrous  sort 
Unto  her  children  doth  her  life  disport. 
A  type  of  Christ,  who,  sin-thralled  man  to  free, 
Became  a  captive,  and  on  shamefiil  Tree 
Self-guiltless  shed  his  blood,  by*s  wounds  to  save  ust 
And  heal  the  wounds  th?  old  serpent  firstly  gave  us. 
And  so  became  of  meer  immortal  mortal 
Thereby  to  make  frail  mortal  man  immortal" 

— SYLVESTER'S  Du  Bartas. 

Bridges — Greswell — Otter — Hext — Coxe — Vaughan  Thomas — 
Blackstone — Furneaux — Tom  Faussett. 

OF  two  Corpus  men,  amusing  lunatics  both,  Frowd 
and  Holme,  I  made  mention  on  page  27 ;  but  my 
memory,  stimulated  by  an  old  friend,  Professor 
H.  A.  Strong,  himself  in  former  days  a  Scholar,  has 
brought  before  me  a  further  file  of  worthies  from  the 
College  of  the  Pelican. 

I  remember  old  President  Bridges ;  his  little 
daughter  was  my  playfellow.  Bridges,  the  Fellow 
of  Corpus,  was  his  nephew.  He  was  a  Wykehamist, 
and  had  left  behind  him  amongst  the  Juniors  a  rather 
awful  memory.  He  was  a  keen  cricketer,  and  used 
to  question  me  about  the  College  and  Commoner 
matches.  He  gave  me  the  original  MS.  scores  of  the 

first  matches  played  at  Lords  between  Winchester 



and  Harrow.  I  presented  them  to  T.  W.  Erie, 
afterwards  Associate  in  Common  Pleas.  Bridges — 
Bridger  the  boys  called  him — went  to  the  Bar,  and 
became  Attorney  General  at  Hong-Kong.  He  was 
very  deeply  marked  with  small-pox  :  when  news 
reached  us  of  his  marriage,  Arthur  Ridding  re- 
marked that  the  lady  ought  to  be  pitied. 

When  Dr.  Bridges  died,  the  Headship  was  offered 
to  Greswell.  Tommy  Greswell  he  was  called  :  his 
name  was  Edward,  but  the  men  had  re-christened 
him,  as  the  children  re-christened  the  pig  in  "The 
Golden  Age."  He  was  a  walking  library  of  re- 
condite classics ;  Macmullen  in  one  generation, 
Furneaux  in  another,  used  to  draw  him  out. 
Once  in  his  life  he  was  recorded  to  have  made  a 
joke.  There  was  a  Gentleman  Commoner  named 
Meiklam.  Called  on  by  the  President  at  Col- 
lections, where  it  was  certain  that  he  would  do  his 
Tutors  no  credit,  Greswell  said  — "  Please,  Mr. 
President,  leave  him  to  us — Nos  humilem  feriemus 
agnam  ;  We  will  smite  the  meek  lamb."  On  his 
refusal  of  the  Headship  Norris  was  elected  Pre- 
sident, "a  little  round  fat  oily  man  of  God,"  who 
kept  hunters.  Nimrod,  in  his  "Condition  of 
Hunters,"  mentions  the  high  condition  in  which 
Norris'  horses  were  kept.  He  used  to  dine  with 
us  at  New  College  sometimes,  when  special 
Caecuban  was  brought  out  from  the  College  cellars. 
On  becoming  President  he  gave  up  hunting  and 
sold  his  horses  ;  his  groom  came  into  Quad  sob- 
bing out — "  I  never  thought  to  live  to  see  my 
master  made  into  an  old  woman." 

Francis  Otter,  one  of  the  Fellows,  who  sat  for 

CORPUS  241 

the  Louth  Division  of  Lincolnshire  during  the 
Short  Parliament,  and  who  married  the  sister  of 
George  Eliot's  husband,  Mr.  Gross,  once  asked 
him,  as  Burgon  asked  Routh,  for  a  word  of  wisdom 
which  might  be  to  him  a  maxim  and  a  guide  in  the 
change  and  chance  of  life.  "  I  will  give  you  two 
such,  my  young  friend,"  said  Norris.  "  First,  never 
make  an  enemy ;  and  secondly — never  be  drawn 
into  a  correspondence." 

Otter  was  famous  during  the  Secession  War  for 
his  advocacy  of  the  North.  It  used  to  be  said  then 
that  the  North  had  only  three  champions  in  Eng- 
land, Queen  Victoria,  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  and  the 
Spectator  newspaper.  Otter  made  a  fourth.  The 
Spectator  was  so  unpopular  for  its  advocacy  that 
it  lost  nearly  all  its  subscribers,  but  the  circulation 
more  than  recovered  itself  after  the  war.  Otter 
took  the  chair  at  a  great  meeting  where  I  spoke 
for  him  at  Sleaford  in  1890.  He  talked  about  the 
Roman  Empire,  and  never  touched  his  audience. 
I  heard  an  important  land-agent  say,  "We  don't 
want  a  d — d  Tutor  to  represent  us." 

The  bestknown  Corpus  Tutor  of  my  time  was  Hext. 
From  a  letter  which  he  wrote  to  me  when  my  book 
came  out,  mentioning  him  as  it  did  in  connection 
with  Dr.  Frowd,  I  transcribe  the  biographical  part: — 
" .  .  .  the  pleasure  you  have  given  me  in  reviving 
so  many  of  my  reminiscences,  which  with  age  are 
beginning  to  escape  me.  In  1836  I  got  a  Scholar- 
ship at  Corpus,  resided  till  1858,  and  then  for  thirty 
years  never  I  believe  missed  a  year  to  look  up  old 
friends  for  a  few  days.  Alas  !  they  are  getting 
scarce  now.  ...  I  treasured  Lord  Exmouth's  port 


wine  as  Frowd  had  done,  never  using  it  but  when 
old  Oxford  friends  came  to  visit  me,  opening  the 
last  bottle  for  Evans  of  Pembroke  in  1873.  My 
last  visit  to  Oxford  was  I  think  in  1897,  to  an  'old 
Corpus '  dinner,  when  I  stayed  with  Furneaux,  and 
met  a  grand  gathering  of  old  friends,  most  of  whom 
I  had  not  seen  for  forty  or  fifty  years.  I  fear  I 
shall  never  see  Oxford  again.  In  1896  I  con- 
tributed an  article  to  the  Pelican  Record,  on 
'  Memories  of  Corpus  boating/  in  which  I  gave  an 
account  of  the  seven-oar  race,  much  like  your  own. 
Two  of  the  crew,  George  Hughes  and  Mackay, 
were  pupils  of  mine  at  the  time. 

"  My  dearest  friend  of  all  time  was  Harry  Coxe. 
I  gave  Burgon  a  few  lines  about  him  for  his  twelve 
good  men.  I  don't  think  I  have  any  old  friends  sur- 
viving in  Oxford  except  Chase.  I  see  William  Ogle 
occasionally  in  London.  The  rest  I  think  are  gone. 

"  I  am  now  retired ;  gave  up  my  Corpus  Living 
in  1899,  and  am  at  last  feeling  my  age.  Once  more 
thank  you  for  your  Reminiscences  :  I  remember 
your  father  well,  but  I  never  knew  you  I'm  afraid." 

He  knew  me  across  the  examination  table  in  the 
Schools.  I  remember  him  examining  me  in  the 
Ethics  for  Greats  in  1852.  I  knew  it  "  in  parts  " — I 
forbear  the  obvious  quotation — and  Karslake  of 
Merton  my  Tutor  had  imparted  to  me  a  variety  of 
dodges  by  which  an  Examiner  testing  one  in  a 
weak  place  might  be  diverted  on  to  stronger 
ground.  Karslake  came  in  to  hear  my  Viva  Voce; 
and  on  my  adroitly  and  successfully  practising 
his  lesson,  laughed  audibly,  and  made  me  smile. 
Little  Hext  glared  suspiciously ;  and  I  was  obliged 

CORPUS  243 

to  look  serious,  a  feat  which  I  achieved  without 
difficulty  on  his  asking  me  a  question  which  I 
could  not  answer.  He  next  took  me  in  Horace ; 
set  me  on,  as  I  thought,  in  Satire  IX.,  and  I  glee- 
fully turned  to  the  Ibam  forte.  He  corrected  me 
again  suspiciously  :  "  I  asked  for  the  9th  Epistle.1' 
But  I  knew  by  heart  Steele's  fine  translation  of  the 
Septimius  missive  in  the  Spectator,  and  restored 
him  to  good  humour.  His  letter  was  written  in 
1901,  when  he  was  eighty-six  years  old.  He  died 
in  the  same  year. 

His  friend  Henry  Coxe  was  Chaplain  at  Corpus 
in  those  days ;  famous  for  the  pace  at  which  he 
took  the  prayers  :  in  amusing  contrast  to  the  slow 
measured  reading  of  President  Norris.  He  was 
the  best  mimic  I  ever  met.  I  once  wanted  to  see 
Dr.  Wolff,  the  Bokhara  missionary  and  savant ; 
sought  him  in  the  Bodleian,  and  asked  Coxe  if  he 
was  there.  Instantly  Coxe's  handsome  face  was 
distorted  into  Wolff's  grotesque  phiz,  his  fingers 
wreathed  themselves  in  strange  twitchings,  and 
Wolff's  cavernous  voice  ascended  from  his  chest. 
At  that  moment  Wolff  himself  emerged  from  one 
of  the  cells ;  gesticulations,  face,  voice,  so  exactly 
as  Coxe  had  rendered  them,  that  I  was  fain  to 
turn  away.  He  used  to  render  dialogues  between 
old  Routh  and  Burgon ;  Burgon's  piping  voice 
and  gushing  manner  set  off  by  the  old  President's 
sedate,  soft,  measured,  half  querulous,  half  sar- 
castic tones. 

Another  notable  Corpus  Chaplain,  formerly  a 
Fellow,  was  Vaughan  Thomas,  tall,  white-haired, 
red-faced,  with  sonorous  voice.  He  was  the  last 


survivor  amongst  the  men  to  whom  Latin  was 
a  mother  tongue,  pouring  forth  orations  voluble 
and  unprepared.  He  had  been  an  active  Uni- 
versity politican  ;  but  through  some  offence  given 
had  taken  his  name  off  the  books.  He  led  the 
original  "  Hampden  row,"  as  it  was  called.  The 
protesters  against  Hampden  met  in  his  rooms, 
and  he  delivered  a  fine  Latin  speech  on  the 
historic  occasion  when  the  Proctors  non-placeted 
the  decree  against  the  Bampton  Lectures.  His 
wife  was  a  Miss  Williams,  daughter  to  the  Botanical 
professor,  who  lived  in  the  house  overlooking 
the  Gardens  at  the  High  Street  end  of  Rose 
Lane.  He  lived  in  Holywell  Lodge ;  but  when 
his  wife's  sister  died,  moved  into  the  vacated 
house.  Miss  Williams  was  a  character.  She  in- 
habited on  Sundays  an  unusually  large  pew  in 
St.  Peter's,  which  she  would  allow  no  one  to 
share.  Once,  when  some  preacher  drew  a  crowd, 
she  came  late  to  find  her  pew  filled  with  under- 
graduates. I  saw  her  stand  at  the  door  and  motion 
them  all  out,  then  shut  herself  in.  Vaughan  Thomas 
used  a  large,  old-fashioned,  closed  carriage,  with  a 
handsome  pair  of  horses,  in  which  he  and  his 
second  wife  "took  the  air"  every  day.  But  he 
was  a  strict  observer  of  "the  Sabbath,"  and  on 
Sundays  left  his  horses  and  coachman  to  their 
rest,  driving  to  his  small  living  near  Oxford  in 
one  of  May's  two-horse  flys. 

I  well  knew  poor  Charles  Blackstone.  His 
father  held  the  New  College  living  of  Heckfield, 
and  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Dr.  Arnold.  He 
made  a  figure  at  the  Union,  speaking  frequently, 

CORPUS  245 

and  giving  much  time  to  the  preparation  of  his 
speeches.  He  won  the  Newdigate  in  1848 — the  sub- 
ject "Columbus,"  reciting  his  poem  in  the  Theatre 
with  great  force  amid  loud  applause.  He  was 
found  by  his  scout  one  morning  lying  dead  upon 
his  sofa,  a  discharged  pistol  in  his  hand.  The 
conjecture  offered  at  the  inquest,  and  accepted, 
was  to  the  effect  that  he  had  been  annoyed  by 
a  rat  in  his  room,  and  had  bought  the  pistol 
with  intent  to  shoot  it :  had  fallen  asleep  on  his 
sofa  overnight,  and,  waked  by  the  rat,  had  some- 
how entangled  the  pistol  in  his  dress  and  lodged 
the  contents  in  himself. 

I  come  to  Henry  Furneaux,  with  whom  I  was 
intimate  for  nearly  sixty  years.  We  were  juniors 
together  at  Winchester  in  1842.  He  was  then 
a  very  tiny  boy,  with  a  large  head  which  used 
to  hang  on  one  side,  and  great  round  eyes  like 
those  with  wrhich  a  hare  gazes  at  you  when  you 
surprise  it  sitting  in  its  form.  He  made  fun  of 
his  diminutive  stature,  declaring  that  in  a  shower 
he  could  walk  between  the  drops  of  rain  and  not 
get  wet.  His  astonishing  memory  first  showed 
itself  in  the  summer  of  1844,  when  he  performed 
in  "  Standing  Up,"  as  it  was  called,  the  feat  which 
I  have  elsewhere  commemorated.  Later,  in  the 
Sixth  Form,  it  was  customary  in  the  weekly 
Horace  lesson  to  construe  the  whole  or  part  of 
a  Satire  or  Epistle,  then  to  say  by  heart  what 
we  had  translated  the  week  before.  One  day, 
our  lesson  opened  at  the  Non  quia  Mczcenas, 
which  we  duly  construed,  and  were  prepared  to 
say  by  heart  the  Brundusium  diary  which  pre- 


cedes  it.  By  mistake  Moberly  set  Furneaux  on 
at  the  piece  just  construed,  which  none  of  us 
had  learned.  He  went  merrily  ahead,  till  Moberly, 
noting  our  amused  remonstrant  faces,  saw  his 
mistake,  and  stopped  the  performance,  adding  to 
Furneaux,  after  a  pause,  a  few  serious  words  as 
to  the  responsibility  attaching  to  his  remarkable 
talent.  His  forte  at  that  time  was  original  Latin 
Prose.  Many  of  us  were  fluent  Latinists,  but  he 
beat  us  all.  Once  a  month  or  so  we  had  to 
produce  a  Latin  critique  on  some  great  classical 
work  of  poet,  orator,  historian  :  it  must  occupy 
twelve  pages  of  a  quarto  manuscript  book.  But 
to  our  hardness  of  heart  was  accorded  a  blank 
margin,  which  lazy  boys  would  sometimes  extend 
till  the  composition  was  reduced  to  a  series  of 
slender  strips.  Furneaux,  alone  of  us  all,  never 
deigned  to  employ  any  margin ;  his  twelve  pages 
were  all  covered  with  black  manuscript.  His  Latin 
Verse  was  not  particularly  good  ;  his  English  Verse 
execrable  :  I  remember  a  poem  which  he  wrote  on 
Gothic  Architecture,  and  which  his  co-mates  cri- 
ticised so  mercilessly  that  in  a  passion  of  tears  he 
tore  it  up.  I  myself,  in  satira  nimis  acer,  com- 
posed on  the  occasion  a  wicked  lampoon  :  but  he 
bore  me  no  spite  ;  malice  was  not  in  his  nature. 
Senior  of  the  School,  he  fortunately  did  not 
go  off  to  New  College,  the  only  two  vacancies 
being  annexed,  according  to  the  vicious  practice 
of  that  day,  by  two  Founders'  kin  much  his 
juniors.  I  say  fortunately ;  for  at  that  time  New 
College  absorbed  the  cream  of  Winchester  and 
converted  it  into  thinnest  milk.  He  got  his 

CORPUS  247 

Corpus  Scholarship,  his  First  Class,  his  Fellow- 
ship. It  was  as  an  undergraduate  that  he  first 
showed  his  genius  for  story  telling.  He  picked 
up  and  remembered  every  jeu  d' esprit  emitted  by 
Thorold  Rogers,  Blaydes,  Bartlett,  Tom  Faussett, 
and  would  retail  them  with  contagious  enjoyment 
of  their  fun.  These  passed  away  from  him  mostly 
in  after  life,  until  his  memory  was  stirred  ;  then 
they  all  came  back.  In  writing  my  Oxford  book 
I  once  or  twice  applied  to  him  to  complete 
some  squib  of  which  I  remembered  only  a  line 
or  two ;  and  with  some  effort  he  usually  suc- 
ceeded. "You  certainly  are,"  he  wrote  to  me, 
"  a  wonderful  person  for  stimulating  my  recol- 
lection. The  verses  you  want  must  have  slum- 
bered in  my  memory  for  I  know  not  how  many 
years.  In  late  years  I  have  not  heard  of  any 
good  thing.  I  fear  the  art  is  extinct,  the  clever 
men  being  too  serious,  the  others  too  stupid." 
The  most  wonderful  of  his  stories  was  known  as 
"The  Cornish  Jury."  In  a  case  of  murder  the 
jury  had  retired  to  consider  their  verdict;  and 
at  first  beguiled  the  time  with  general  talk,  which 
Furneaux,  a  born  Cornishman,  rendered  in  the 
native  dialect.  Reminded  at  last  by  the  Foreman 
that  they  must  "come  to  a  'cision  on  this  here 
case,"  the  dikasts  delivered  their  judgments  in- 
dividually, each  more  amazing  than  his  predeces- 
sors. I  can  recall  them,  but  it  would  be  useless 
to  transcribe  them  : 

"Nam  quamvis  memori  referao  mihi  pectore  cuncta, 
Non  ta  g  en  interpres  tantundem  juveris  ;  adde 
Vultum  habitumque  hominis." 


Mansel  once  tried  to  tell  the  story  in  my  hearing ; 
he  was  a  professed  raconteur,  but  he  murdered  it 

Furneaux  was  for  some  years  a  School  Exa- 
miner, but  disliked  the  pressure  which  the  task 
involved.  "  They  bring  you  a  haystack  of  Papers 
at  6  P.M.  and  expect  the  marks  next  morning." 
And,  though  a  strenuous  worker,  he  loved  a 
leisurely  dinner  and  a  good  night's  rest.  He 
abandoned  the  practice  after  a  while :  it  had 
been,  he  said,  "a  youthful  folly."  He  died  in 
1900,  in  his  seventy-first  year. 

One  old  acquaintance  more  shall  close  my 
list,  who,  like  the  last,  died,  multis  flebilis,  before 
his  time,  Tom  Faussett  of  Corpus.  He  held  a 
close  scholarship,  confined  to  the  county  of  Ox- 
ford. There  was  only  one  candidate  besides,  but 
as  the  senior  boy  at  Winchester  he  was  formid- 
able. I  remember  Faussett's  glee  when  his  rival 
withdrew,  preferring  unwisely  to  take  his  chance 
of  New  College.  Unwisely — because  while  New 
College  was  decadent,  Corpus  was  a  rising  College. 
While  at  College  Faussett  was  dexterous  in  epi- 
gram and  parody ;  he  became  afterwards  an  ex- 
ceptionally skilful  writer  of  Latin  poetry ;  not  the 
classical  poetry  of  Lord  Wellesley  and  Charles 
Wordsworth,  but  the  riming  mediaeval  verse,  now 
secular  and  humorous,  now  devotional,  of  Walter 
de  Mapes  or  of  the  Paris  Breviary.  He  was  an 
unrivalled  punster  :  his  was  the  quatrain  in  Punch 
at  which  all  England  laughed,  when  in  the  Ashantee 
war  King  Coffee  Calcalli  fled  from  his  burning 
capital — 

CORPUS  249 

"  Coomassie's  town  is  burnt  to  dust, 

The  King,  escaped  is  he  : 

So  Ash-and-Coffee  now  remain 

Of  what  was  Ash-an-tee." 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  pun  in  Latin  ;  but  that  too 
he  habitually  achieved.  In  some  lines  sent  to 
Dean  Alford  at  a  time  when  stormy  winds  did 
blow  he  interjects  the  comment — 

"  Contra  venti  sunt  brumales 
(Audin'  quanta  vox  eis  ? ), 
Si  non  cequinoctiales 
Saltern  czque  noxii" 

An  accomplished  lawyer  and  antiquary,  he  lived 
and  died  at  Canterbury  as  Auditor  to  the  Dean 
and  Chapter;  died  at  the  early  age  of  forty-eight. 
While  he  was  an  undergraduate,  I  had  heard 
some  one  recite  from  a  topical  imitation  of  Gray's 
"  Elegy/'  which  he  ascribed  to  Faussett.  The 
lines  kept  a  hold  on  me,  and  ten  years  afterwards, 
meeting  him  in  Oxford,  I  asked  him  for  them. 
"  I  don't  think  a  copy  is  extant,"  he  said  with 
astonishment.  "  I  never  even  knew  that  F.  had 
heard  of  them  ;  but  that  they  should  have  reached 
you  and  remained  in  your  memory  is  to  me 
wonderful."  He  recalled  and  sent  me  the  lines ; 
I  reproduce  them  from  his  handwriting.  It  was 
a  letter,  written  to  an  absentee  comrade  at  the 
close  of  term. 

"  Collections  o'er — the  knell  of  closing  term, 

The  lower  herd  speed  off  with  eager  glee, 
The  Dons  too  homeward  trail  their  steps  sedate, 
And  leave  the  College  to  the  scouts  and  me. 


Now  fades  the  last  portmanteau  on  my  view, 
And  o'er  the  Quad  a  solemn  stillness  looms  ; 

Save  where  young  Furneaux  coaching  still  resides, 
And  mumbling  pupils  throng  his  distant  rooms  : 

Save  that  from  yonder  gloom-encircled  lodge, 
The  porter's  boy  doth  to  the  porter  moan 

Of  such  as  issuing  from  the  ancient  gate 
Forget  the  usual  terminal  half-crown. 

Within  that  number  two,  that  one  pair  left, 

Where  heaves  the  wall  with  countless  gold-framed  views, 

All  in  his  snug  armchair  in  silence  set, 

Your  humble  correspondent  takes  his  snooze. 

The  husky  voice  of  dream-dissolving  scout, 
The  porter,  summoning  to  the  Dean's  stern  frown, 

The  bell's  shrill  tocsin  and  the  echoing  clock 
No  more  disturb  him  from  his  morning's  down. 

For  him  no  more  the  social  breakfast  waits, 
Nor  smiling  Sankey  boils  the  midnight  brew, 

No  mirthful  Wadham  scatters  cheer  around, 
No  Blaydes  applauds  the  long-divided  crew. 

Oft  did  blue  devils  'neath  their  influence  fly, 
Their  laughter  oft  his  stubborn  moods  dispelled, 

How  jovial  did  they  chaff  the  term  away, 

How  the  Quad  echoed  as  their  sides  they  held  ! 

Ah  !  let  not  Christchurch  mock  their  simple  life, 
Their  homelier  joys  and  less  expensive  cares, 

Nor  Merton  gaze  with  a  disdainful  smile 
On  fun  too  intellectual  to  be  theirs. 

The  glare  of  bran  new  pinks,  the  pomp  of  teams, 
The  tuft-hunter's  success,  the  gambler's  luck, 

Alike  upon  a  slippery  basis  stand  ; 

A  course  too  rapid  endeth  in  a  "  muck." 

CORPUS  251 

Nor  you,  ye  swells,  impute  to  us  a  fault 
In  fame  and  memory  if  to  you  we  yield, 

If  ours  no  vulpine  brush,  no  argent  vase, 
Proclaim  as  victors  of  the  flood  and  field. 

Can  storied  urns  or  animated  "  busts  "  ] 
Bribe  back  the  mucker  which  has  once  been  run ; 

Can  knocker  wrenched  allay  proctorial  ire, 
Or  tails  of  vermin  soothe  a  clamorous  dun  ? 

Yet  know,  in  this  our  quiet  spot  have  lived 

Hearts  close  united  by  affection's  tie, 
Wit  that  might  shine  in  Courts  as  well  as  Quads, 

And  social  virtues  with  which  few  can  vie. 

Their  names,  their  deeds,  writ  in  tradition's  page, 
Shall  sound  eternised  by  her  Muse's  lyre, 

Freshmen  to  come  the  fond  record  shall  trace, 

Rejoice  in  youth,  like  them,  like  them  in  age  aspire." 

1  Bust—  slang   for  a  breakdown   in   character  and   career, 
synonymous  with  "mucker,"  then  first  coming  into  use. 



"  Hast  thou  seen  higher,  holier  things  than  these, 
And  therefore  must  to  these  refuse  thy  heart? 
With  the  true  Best,  alack,  how  ill  agrees 

That  best  that  thou  ivouldst  choose. 
The  Summum  Pulchrum  rests  in  heaven  above  ; 

Do  thou  as  best  thou  may'st,  thy  duty  do : 
Amid  the  things  allowed  thee  live  and  love : 
Same  day  thou  shalt  it  view."" 


A  Contrast  to  Jowett — Mark  Pattison's  Character  land  Career — A 
Sceptic — And  a  Cynic — Omni-erudition — His  Talk  of  Books — 
The  Optimist  and  the  Pessimist — Maurice — Archbishop  Thomson 
— Provost  of  Queen's — Oxford  Preachers — Early  Recollections — 
Denison — Hamilton — Adams — Goulburn — Goulburn  at  Rugby — 
A  Mediaeval  Saint — Dean  of  Norwich — William  Sewell — More 
Puseyite  than  Pusey — His  Emotional  Theology — His  Quaint  Lec- 
tures— His  Translation  of  Horace — An  Epidemic  of  High  Church 
Novelettes—  "  Amy  Herbert " —  "  Hawkstone"  —  St.  Columba's 
College — Singleton — Radley. 

THERE  remain  some  viri  illustres  whom  I  knew, 
and  of  whom  I  have  words  to  say.  First  of  these 
comes  Mark  Pattison.  To  bracket  him  with  Jowett, 
as  is  often  done,  shows  superficial  knowledge  of 
the  pair.  Both,  no  doubt,  were  clergymen,  both 
missed  disappointingly  and  afterwards  exultingly 
obtained  the  Headship  of  their  Colleges,  both 
wrote  in  "  Essays  and  Reviews."  Behind  these 

accidents    are   life   equipment,    experiences,   char- 



From  a  Portrait  in  the  possession  of  Miss  Stirke  rs 

PATTISON   AND   OTHERS        253 

acters,  temperaments,  standing  in  phenomenal 
contrast.  Pattison's  mind  was  the  more  com- 
prehensive, instructed,  idealistic,  its  evolution  as 
intermittent  and  self-torturing  as  Jowett's  was  con- 
tinuous and  tranquil.  Pattison's  life,  in  its  abrupt 
precipitations  and  untoward  straits,  resembled  the 
mountain  brook  of  Wordsworth's  Solitary  ;  Jowett's 
floated  even,  strong,  and  full,  from  the  winning 
of  the  Balliol  scholarship  by  the  little  white-haired 
lad  with  shrill  voice  and  cherub  face,  until  the 
Sunday  afternoon  at  Headley  Park,  when  the  old 
man,  shrill,  white-haired,  and  cherubic  still,  bade 
"  farewell  to  the  College,"  turned  his  face  to  the 
wall,  and  died. 

To  a  College  whose  tutors  were  inefficient  and 
its  scholars  healthy  animals  Pattison  carried  at 
eighteen  years  old  a  mass  of  undigested  reading, 
an  intelligence  half  awakened,  a  morbid  self-con- 
sciousness, a  total  want  of  the  propriety  and  tact 
which  a  public  school  instils,  but  in  which  home 
training  usually  fails.  Slowly  there  dawned  in  him 
the  idea  of  intellectual  life,  the  desire  to  amass 
learning  for  the  rapture  of  acquiring  it ;  and  to  his 
mental  development,  with  all  its  aberrations,  this 
idea  gave  lasting  unity.  It  was  broken  for  a  time 
by  Newman's  influence,  which  swept  him  into  the 
Tractarian  whirlpool,  arrested  the  growth  of  his 
understanding,  diverted  him  from  scholarahip  to 
theology  ;  the  reaction  which  followed  Newman's 
flight  told  on  him  with  corresponding  force.  He 
had  missed  his  First  Class  through  going  prema- 
turely into  the  Schools,  and  taking  in  fewer  books 
than  were  required  for  the  highest  honours.  The 


Examiners  had  doomed  him  to  a  Third,  when  one 
of  them,  Hayward  Cox,  drew  attention  to  his 
answers  in  the  Logic  and  Moral  Science  Papers, 
which  were  gems  of  thought ;  and  prevailed  on 
his  colleagues  to  place  him  in  the  Second  Class. 
He  became  Fellow  of  Lincoln,  College  Tutor  and 
Examiner  in  the  Schools,  threw  himself  zealously 
into  academic  discipline  and  teaching,  recovered 
the  bodily  health  which  High  Church  aw^a-nKj] 
<yv/j,vacria  had  impaired;  was  useful  and  ambitious 
and  happy.  The  Headship  of  Lincoln  fell  vacant, 
and  all  looked  to  see  him  fill  it — all  except  a  torpid 
and  obstructive  minority  amongst  the  Fellows, 
affronted  by  the  energy  which  put  their  somnolence 
to  shame.  Their  intrigues  succeeded,  and  he  was 
defeated  by  Thompson,  a  man  well  acquainted 
with  the  College  estates  and  business,  but  not 
comparable  with  Pattison  in  intellectual  and  teach- 
ing power.  The  disappointment  paralysed  him, 
and,  broken-hearted,  he  resigned  his  Tutorship. 
Somewhat  restored  by  two  years  of  rambling, 
fishing,  foreign  travel,  but  an  altered  and  embit- 
tered man,  vindictive,  melancholy,  taciturn,  he 
fell  back  on  his  old  ideal  of  life — the  life  of  a 
student  pure  and  simple,  with  no  view  to  literary 
success,  but,  as  before,  for  the  joy  which  study 
brings.  Thenceforth  for  thirty  years,  with  one 
brief  interruption,  his  life  flowed  in  this  single 
channel.  He  lived  among  his  books,  used  his 
Headship,  when  it  came  to  him,  less  in  the  interests 
of  the  College  than  to  enlarge  his  library  and  his 
leisure;  produced  his  monumental  "Casaubon," 
outcome  of  twenty-five  years'  reading;  flung  off 

PATTISON  AND   OTHERS        255 

from  his  workshop  the  chips  now  mortised  into 
his  collected  Essays ;  died,  multa  gemens,  as  for 
his  reft  library,  so  most  of  all  for  this,  that  his 
"Life  of  Scaliger,"  conceived  and  shaped  in 
memory  and  notes,  must  pass  with  him  into  the 
land  where  all  things  are  forgotten. 

Such  a  life  must  needs  write  wrinkles,  not  only  on 
cheek  and  brow,  but  on  heart  and  brain  :  it  left  its 
mark  on  Pattison's.  It  left  him  sceptic.  Puritanism, 
Anglicanism,  Catholicism,  had  successively  widened 
his  religious  conceptions,  each  in  turn  falling  from 
him  like  a  worn-out  garment,  till  he  became  Pantheist 
on  the  positive  side,  negatively  Agnostic.  Religion 
he  esteemed  as  a  good  servant  but  a  bad  master ; 
the  idea  of  Deity,  he  told  one  of  his  querists,  was 
"defaecated  to  a  pure  transparency."  Faith  he 
defined  as  ft  belief  in  the  unproved  "  ;  and  what  he 
could  not  prove,  that  he  would  not  believe.  This 
discrepancy  between  esoteric  conviction  and  pro- 
fessional status  troubled  him  not  at  all.  He  acknow- 
ledged to  Thorold  Rogers,  who  had  abandoned 
the  Anglican  ministry,  his  own  disbelief  in  what 
those  who  hold  them  call  the  fundamental  verities 
of  Christianity ;  but  said  that  as  a  young  man  he 
had  adopted  in  good  faith  the  doctrines  of  the 
English  Church,  had  shaped  his  life  to  meet  its 
demands,  was  too  old  now  to  make  a  change  injuri- 
ous to  himself.  It  left  him  cynical.  He  declined 
to  acknowledge  the  obligation  of  self-sacrifice  ;  pro- 
nounced Montaigne's  dictum,  that  to  abandon 
self-enjoyment  in  order  to  serve  others  is  unnatural 
and  wrong,  "a  refreshing  passage";  quoted  with 
approval  Goethe's  paradox,  "  I  know  not  myself, 


and  God  forbid  I  ever  should."  In  his  sister  Dora's 
heroism,  which,  in  the  light  of  Miss  Lonsdale's  book, 
all  England  honoured,  he  saw  only  self-glorification 
and  misdirected  energy.  He  lectured  once  at 
Birmingham  while  she  was  combating  small-pox  at 
Walsall :  she  came  over  to  greet  him,  not  having 
seen  him  for  years.  "  What,  Dora  !  "  was  his  only 
salutation,  "still  cutting  off  little  Tommy's  fingers 
and  little  Jemmy's  toes  ?  "  It  left  him  pessimist.  As 
student  of  history  and  politics  he  had  seen  one  after 
another  millennium  prevented  by  the  thwarting 
Spirit  which,  scevo  Iceta  negotioy  loves  unweariedly 
to  spite  humanity ;  Hellenic  civilisation  in  one 
century,  "New  Learning"  in  another,  political 
reform  in  his  younger  days,  social  emancipation  in 
his  maturity.  He  refused  to  believe  in  the  pro- 
gressive happiness  of  mankind,  and  laughed  to  scorn 
the  amiable  Tennysonian  commonplace  that  good 
will  be  the  final  end  of  ill.  It  left  him,  happily,  as 
it  found  him,  a  devotee  of  knowledge.  He  was  as 
nearly  ornni-erudite  as  man  can  be  in  omni-parient 
days  :  one  who  knew  him  well  said  of  him  that  you 
may  dig  into  any  portion  of  his  mind  with  certainty 
of  turning  up  a  nugget.  In  the  book-lined  gallery 
which  opened  out  of  his  drawing-room  he  would 
sit  or  stand,  in  the  short  morning  coat  which  he 
affected  as  a  dinner  dress,  the  centre  of  a  group  of 
guests,  picked  men  from  many  walks  of  thought, 
scientist,  aesthetic,  literary  :  as  each  proffered  his 
own  patented  topic  Pattison  would  take  it  up  and 
handle  it  with  swift,  clear,  exhaustive  analysis, 
ending  always  with  an  apologetic,  "  But,  you  know, 
it's  not  my  subject." 


What  was  his  subject  ?  He  ranked  specially  as 
an  expert  in  moral  philosophy,  examining  therein 
at  one  time  for  the  India  Civil  Service.  I  asked 
him  once  about  the  relative  merits  of  the  candidates 
as  belonging  to  different  Universities.  He  said 
that  the  Oxford  man,  in  shirt  front,  finger  nails, 
costume  generally,  was  a  thing  of  beauty — and 
knew  nothing ;  the  Cantab,  slightly  dingy — and 
knew  something  ;  the  Caledonian  knew  little  about 
moral  philosophy,  much  about  the  Scotchmen  who 
had  handled  it ;  the  Dublin  man  was  a  boor  in  ex- 
ternals, but  knew  everything.  Yet  no  one  would 
venture  to  limit  his  speciality  to  philosophy. 
Apart  from  literature  and  philology,  fresh  chambers 
were  ever  opening  to  one's  quest  in  the  basement 
no  less  than  in  the  higher  stones  of  his  mind. 
He  had  a  Yorkshireman's  love  of  horses,  and 
cared  to  know  who  won  the  Derby.  He  narrowly 
missed  the  championship  of  croquet,  and  could 
diagnose  the  mental  bias  of  the  players  round 
him  by  their  methods  and  tactics  in  the  game.  In 
country  walks  he  recognised  the  note  of  every 
bird,  and  knew  or  sought  to  know  the  name,  habit, 
class,  of  every  uncommon  plant  or  hovering  insect. 
His  talk  of  books  was  musical  in  its  luminous 
enthusiasm,  and  he  read  aloud  the  poetry  he  loved 
with  rare  felicity.  As  a  young  man  he  had  written 
hymns  for  some  of  the  minor  Church  festivals,  but  he 
never  enjoyed  religious  poetry,  and  would  pitilessly 
dissect  the  97^09  and  the  diction  of  the  "  Christian 
Year."  He  cared  little  for  Tennyson  or  Brown- 
ing, though  he  joined  the  Browning  Society,  and 
once  gave  a  characteristic  address  on  "  James  Lee's 


Wife."  Towards  Milton  he  felt  as  a  scholiast  rather 
than  as  a  worshipper.  Pope  always  appealed  to 
him ;  he  recited  his  poetry  with  a  relishing  ccesuric 
swing,  was  proud  of  his  own  commentary  on  the 
"  Essay/'  furious  at  a  stereotyped  error  in  the  notes 
which  made  him  quote  Milton's  "  Hymn  on  the 
Nativity  "  as  "  Ode  to  Nature."  He  greatly  enjoyed 
Wordsworth  in  what  he  called  his  higher  mood  ; 
moral,  that  is,  not  lyrical  or  romantic.  Amongst 
classic  writers  he  placed  ^schylus  as  unapproach- 
able. Anna  Swanwick  used  to  relate  that  she  was 
reading  alone  in  her  drawing-room  late  one  night, 
when  there  came  a  ring  at  the  bell  and  Pattison 
walked  in.  "What  is  the  finest  poem  in  the 
world?"  She  hesitated.  He  answered,  "The 
Agamemnon  "  ;  turned  on  his  heel,  and  disappeared. 
His  favourite  Latin  poet  was  Virgil ;  Gray,  and 
perhaps  Collins,  he  pronounced  to  be  the  only 
English  poets  rivalling  the  artistic  melody  of  the 
Augustan  age  :  he  loved  to  read  aloud  the  "  Pro- 
gress of  Poesy,"  as  the  finest  classical  ode  in  the 
language,  always  throwing  away  the  book  in  anger 
before  the  copybook  bathos  of  the  closing  lines.  On 
his  last  night  alive  he  desired  to  have  read  to  him  the 
"Ode  on  Eton  College,"  commenting  as  he  listened 
with  all  his  old  aptness,  pregnancy,  refinement. 

But  man  cannot  live  by  literary  enthusiasm 
alone  ;  and  in  Pattison's  scheme  of  life  there  was 
a  fatal  flaw — it  lacked  benevolence,  participation, 
sympathy  : 

"  He  did  love  Beauty  only,  Beauty  seen 
In  all  varieties  of  form  and  mind, 
And  Knowledge  for  its  beauty ; " 


and  slighted  Love  avenged  itself.  His  history 
incarnated  the  "  Palace  of  Art " ;  he  built  for 
himself  a  godlike  life,  but  a  life  of  godlike 
isolation  ;  and  so  the  unseen  hand  wrote  "  Mene, 
Mene,"  on  his  palace  walls,  and  the  fruit  which 
he  plucked  so  laboriously  from  the  ambrosial 
tree  turned  to  an  apple  of  Sodom  at  the  last. 
He  was,  indeed,  in  all  points  the  antithesis  of 
Jowett.  The  one  was  idealist,  the  other  prac- 
tical ;  a  Cynic  the  one,  while  the  other  was  a 
Stoic.  Pattison  brooding,  self-centred,  morose ; 
Jowett  sweet-blooded,  altruistic,  sociable;  Jowett 
beamingly  optimistic,  Pattison  pessimist  to  the 
core.  To  his  old  friend's  deathbed,  so  the  tale 
was  current  at  the  time,  Jowett  sent  a  farewell 
message  :  "  You  have  seen  so  much  good  in  the 
world  that  you  may  be  hopeful  of  the  future  ! " 
"  I  have  seen  so  much  wrong  in  the  world," 
snarled  Diogenes  from  his  pillow,  "that  I  have 
no  hope  for  the  future  !  "  Sunt  lacrymce  !  Yet  let 
us  remember,  while  we  emphasise  the  contrast, 
that  to  make  allowance  for  the  forces  which 
disturb  the  moral  pendulum — heredity,  constitu- 
tion, temperament,  environage — is  outside  our 
power  and  our  scope.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  comes 
in  the  weighty  " Judge  not"  of  perfect  insight 
and  of  perfect  charity,  hushing  our  presumptuous 
verdict,  alike  on  the  dejected  and  the  buoyant 
character,  alike  on  the  auspicious  and  the  hapless 
life,  in  the  presence  of  the  all-adjusting  grave. 

My  analysis  of  Mark  Pattison's  character  in  the 
"  Reminiscences  "  brought  me  a  deeply  interesting 


letter  from  one  of  his  few  very  intimate  associates, 
who  had  been  made  conversant  with  the  closing 
incidents  of  his  life.  After  pleading  that  I  must 
not  take  too  literally  his  avowed  contempt  for 
Altruism,  since  his  wife's  well-known  crusade  on 
behalf  of  working  women  owed  its  initial  energy 
to  him,  while  to  the  last  he  freely  gave  both  toil 
and  money  to  the  cause  of  higher  female  educa- 
tion, my  correspondent  proceeds  :  "  Your  portrait 
of  the  Rector  is  a  very  fine  one ;  but  I  could 
have  given  you  hints  which  would  have  coloured 
your  sketch,  and  rightly  so,  more  to  his  mind. 
I  mean  his  true  mind ;  his  contempt  for  dulness 
often  made  him  play  tricks  on  stupid  people.  The 
last  thing  read  to  him  was  not,  as  you  say,  Gray's 
'  Ode  to  Eton ' ;  though  that  he  frequently  called 
for,  but  Horace's  Archytas  Ode,  which  was 
repeated  by  his  wish  over  and  over  again.  During 
the  last  hours  he  made  his  Apologia,  which  was, 
I  believe,  taken  down  by  his  wife,  and  is  extant. 
It  came  to  this,  that  his  aim  had  been  to  live  for 
knowledge  ;  knowledge  not  for  its  own  sake,  but 
for  the  joy  of  acquiring  it.  His  first  conception 
of  this  joy  was  given  to  him,  he  said,  by  Newman's 
writings  ;  though  he  had  come  to  gain  a  truer  view 
than  did  Newman  of  what  knowledge  really  meant. 
You  ought  also  to  know  the  truth  about  Sister 
Dora.  Like  many  brilliant  hysterics,  she  was 
a  born  romancer,  driven  by  the  dramatic  instinct 
to  impress  her  company.  This  was  so  odious  to 
the  Rector,  that  he  never  changed  his  estimate 
of  her.  The  family  did  change,  when  they  found 
she  had  a  following.  I  must  add  my  admiration 

F.    D.    MAURICE  261 

of  your  masterly  sketch;  I  appreciate  the  power 
of  intellectual  discrimination  displayed  in  it."  I 
quoted  as  original  his  saying  that  the  idea  of 
Deity  was  "defecated  to  a  pure  transparency."  I 
have  since  found  it  as  used  originally  by  Coleridge, 
and  applied  by  him  not  to  the  "idea  of  Deity/'  but 
to  "the  mist  that  stands  between  God  and  thee," 
which  after  all  comes  to  nearly  the  same  thing. 

If  Pattison  and  Jowett  present  a  telling  contrast, 
so  do  Maurice  and  Pusey  :  alike  in  spiritual  fervour, 
occult  influence,  magical  personality ;  but  origi- 
nating in  very  different  impulses  and  ending  in 
very  different  convictions.  Pusey  ascended  to  his 
mission  from  long  deep  theologic  study ;  Maurice 
came  down  to  it  from  the  top  of  Sinai,  a  prophet 
on  fire  with  his  message.  Pusey's  development 
from  the  Tractarian  starting-point  was  intelligible 
and  easily  traced  ;  Maurice  moved  in  a  maze  of 
contradictions  and  surprises.  Though  he  hated 
controversy,  his  life  was  one  long  combat ;  of 
large  charity  and  deep  humility,  he  tomahawked 
opponents  with  savage  personal  violence ;  preach- 
ing Radical  doctrines,  he  upheld  aristocracy  and 
feudalism ;  was  labelled  Broad  Church  by  all 
parties,  while  holding  with  devout  acceptance  the 
Prayer  Book,  Catechism,  Thirty-Nine  Articles,  and 
Athanasian  Creed. 

Maurice  was  cradled  amid  theological  strife.  His 
father  was  a  Unitarian  minister,  his  mother  a 
Calvinist,  one  sister  Anglican,  another  Baptist.  The 
stern  tradition  of  his  home  forbade  the  reading 
of  fiction — shut  him  out  from  all  enjoyment  of 


external  nature  ;  it  was  an  atmosphere  of  thin,  cold 
thought,  moral  polemic,  intellectual  puzzlement. 
He  emerged  from  it  with  one  dominant  desire, 
which  shaped  all  his  speculations  and  determined 
his  ultimate  belief — a  passionate  longing  for  unity. 
At  Cambridge  his  mind  grew  rapidly,  under  the 
genial  tutorship  of  Julius  Hare,  the  stimulating 
society  of  the  "  Apostles" — above  all,  through  close 
intimacy  with  Sterling.  Refusing  to  purchase  a 
Fellowship  by  conformity  to  the  Church,  he  slipped 
away  without  a  degree  for  a  course  of  journalism 
in  London,  contributing  to  The  Westminster 
Review,  and  for  a  time  editing  The  Athenceum.  Dis- 
turbed by  mental  anxieties  and  deeming  his  life  a 
failure,  he  entered  himself  at  Oxford,  in  the  hope 
there  to  attain  some  moral  and  religious  standpoint. 
I  have  told  in  another  chapter  (p.  89)  how,  during 
a  walk  with  me  through  Oxford  in  the  Fifties,  the 
late  Sir  Thomas  Acland,  his  lifelong  and  admiring 
friend,  stopped  before  the  Martyrs'  door  of  St. 
Mary  Magdalen  Church,  and  said,  "Twenty-five 
years  ago  Jacobson  and  I  took  F.  D.  Maurice  in 
there  to  be  baptized."  He  read  desperately  hard ; 
published  a  self-revealing  novel,  "  Eustace  Conway  "  ; 
was  ordained  to  a  country  curacy  ;  became  chaplain 
of  Guy's  Hospital ;  and  embodied  the  outcome  of  a 
ten  years'  mental  struggle  in  his  "  Kingdom  of 
Christ,"  that  book  which  abides  to-day  a  record  of 
soul-building  not  less  arresting  to  the  psychologist 
than  the  apologies  of  the  brothers  Newman,  ].  A. 
Froude,  and  Blanco  White.  His  apprehension  of 
God  was  intuitional.  He  would  not  see  design  in 
Nature,  infer  a  Summun  Pulchrum,  deify  the  ideal 

F.   D.   MAURICE  263 

human  self,  accept  an  authoritative  revelation  :  like 
a  Hebrew  prophet,  he  saw  the  Lord  sitting  on  His 
throne.  Possessed  of,  and  hourly  living  in,  this 
presence,  he  deduced  from  it  his  view  of  nature,  of 
humanity,  of  life.  With  Augustine,  he  beheld  a 
City  of  the  World,  a  welter  of  individualism, 
inequality,  competition,  warfare,  selfishness :  be- 
held, too,  a  City  of  God,  a  universal  spiritual 
society,  attested  in  old  experience,  latent  yet  dis- 
cernible in  mankind  to-day.  Behind  the  pageant 
of  society,  the  rise  and  fall  of  nations,  the  jar  of 
creeds,  the  tangle  of  contemporary  politics,  he  saw 
the  ever-advancing  onset  of  spiritual  energies, 
drawing  men  together  by  a  comity  of  righteousness, 
wherein  all  bear  others'  burdens,  finding  each  his 
own  satisfaction  in  the  satisfaction  of  all.  And  the 
constitution  of  this  society  was  monarchic  :  it  was 
not  a  mystical  abstraction,  but  a  visible  kingdom, 
ruled  by  an  ever-present  King.  He  saw  it  in  the 
Catholic  Church,  its  gate  of  baptism,  its  Eucharistic 
guarantee,  its  witnessing  Bible,  its  consummation  in 
the  Athanasian  Trinity  :  found  finally — a  crowning 
solecism  and  surprise  to  his  admirer  ].  S.  Mill — in 
the  English  Church  a  rock  on  which,  after  much 
tossing  to  and  fro,  he  felt  that  he  could  rest.  Yet 
with  no  party  in  that  Church  was  he  on  consenting 
terms.  He  controverted  Pusey's  tract  on  baptism  ; 
scoffed  alike  at  the  Low  Church  craving  for 
personal  salvation,  the  High  Church  academic  and 
tradition-bound  formality,  the  Broad  Church 
independence  of  dogma.  Their  systems  all  began 
with  man,  his  sinfulness,  his  needs,  his  aspirations  ; 
Maurice's  starting-point  was  God.  The  phrase  may 


mean  little  or  much  :  fully  to  appreciate  its  force 
and  its  clue  to  all  his  action  we  must  read  his 
writings.  When  once  it  is  grasped,  we  can  co- 
ordinate all  his  religious  inconsistencies :  the 
thwarting  limitations  and  timidities  which  sorely 
tried  his  colleagues  in  the  social  crusade;  his  horror 
of  democracy ;  his  shrinking  from  co-operative 
action ;  his  halting  attitude  towards  Socialism ;  his 
anti-Sabbatarianism;  his  historic  denial  of  eternal 
punishment ;  above  all,  his  furious  denunciation  of 
Hansel's  jaunty  agnosticism,  humorously  char- 
acterised by  one  of  his  biographers  as  a  theology 
of  Caliban  upon  Setebos. 

One  more  factor  in  this  strangely  compounded 
nature  must  be  taken  into  account — the  loathing 
of  oppression  which  hurled  him  into  every  fray 
upon  the  weaker  side ;  against  the  tyranny  of  an  un- 
reasoning majority,  against  unfair  popular  clamour, 
against  the  bray  of  the  religious  press,  which  he 
honoured  with  the  most  truculent  of  all  his  hatreds. 
He  defended  Ward  in  1844 — fought  for  Pusey 
against  the  Six  Doctors,  for  Jowett  against  Pusey, 
for  Colenso  against  Gray,  for  Bennett  of  St. 
Barnabas'  against  the  Protestant  mob. 

He  lived  an  isolated  life — it  was  his  prayer  that 
he  might  do  so — and  he  left  no  followers.  Yet, 
paradoxical  and  inconsequent  as  he  often  was,  his 
message  was  the  message  of  a  prophet ;  and  as  a 
prophet  he  was  received  by  those  who  had  ears 
to  hear.  "The  greatest  mind  since  Plato"  was 
the  judgment  of  Archdeacon  Hare.  Tennyson's 
admiring  lines  of  tribute  "  break  with  the  music 
of  waves  upon  the  Channel  shore."  "The  most 


beautiful  human  soul/'  said  Kingsley,  who,  after 
Sterling;  knew  and  loved  him  best — "the  most 
beautiful  human  soul  whom  I  have  ever  met  with 
upon  earth,  of  all  men  approaching  nearest  to  my 
conception  of  St.  John,  the  Apostle  of  Love." 

The  "Essays  and  Reviews,"  with  Stanley's  tre- 
mendous article  in  the  Edinburgh,  provoked  a 
counterblast  of  conservative  theology,  in  a  long- 
forgotten  "Aids  to  Faith,"  edited  by  Archbishop 
Thomson,  then  Provost  of  Queen's,  who  had  him- 
self, amusing  to  relate,  written  a  paper  which 
missed  insertion  in  the  famous  volume  only  by 
being  sent  in  too  late.  I  knew  him  as  a  Fellow 
long  before  ;  we  were  both  on  the  committee  of 
the  "Amateur,"  and  worked  together  at  the  pro- 
grammes. He  was  an  enthusiastic  musician,  with 
a  superb  baritone  voice ;  no  one  who  heard  it  will 
forget  his  singing  of  the  "Boar's  Head"  chant  at 
the  Queen's  College  Christmas  dinner.  In  his 
rooms  I  first  received  the  idea  of  what  came  after- 
wards to  be  called  "  culture "  ;  his  talk  and  the 
books  which  lay  about  giving  outlook  into  a  wider 
world  than  had  dawned  on  the  ordinary  academic. 
Educated  under  Butler  at  Shrewsbury,  he  came 
up  to  Queen's  in  1836,  was  idle,  recovered  himself, 
and  became  a  Michel  Fellow  of  the  College.  His 
line  as  a  Tutor  was  philosophy ;  his  "  Laws  of 
Thought "  was  for  many  years  a  valued  text-book. 
His  Bampton  Lectures  on  "The  Atonement" 
passed  into  the  limbo  retained  for  these  annual 
apologies  of  orthodoxy ;  but  his  presentation  to 
All  Souls,  Marylebone,  enabled  him  to  attract 
fashionable  crowds,  and  made  him  known  outside 


the  University.  During  his  residence  in  College 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Skene  of  Rubislaw,  with  their  family, 
came  to  reside  in  Oxford.  We  had  all  read  our 
Lockhart,  and  looked  with  deep  interest  on  the 
white-haired  laird,  Walter  Scott's  lifelong  friend, 
accomplished  horseman,  draughtsman,  antiquarian, 
godfather  to  the  Fourth  Canto  of  "  Marmion," 
to  whom  Scott  owed  the  conception  of  the  Jews 
in  "Ivanhoe,"  and  of  "Quentin  Durward."  With 
them  was  a  middle-aged  daughter,  who  sang 
Handel  finely  and  wrote  religious  novels,  and  two 
young  grand-daughters,  one  pretty,  the  other 
clever  :  let  me  not  be  supposed  to  allege  that  the 
pretty  sister  was  dull  or  the  clever  sister  plain ; 
but  so  it  was,  that  men  used  to  manoeuvre  at 
dinner-parties  to  take  down  the  clever  sister  and 
sit  opposite  the  pretty  one.  This  last — the  "  Greek 
Slave  "  she  was  called,  her  mother  being  a  Levan- 
tine— was  soon  surrounded  by  admirers ;  from 
them  she  selected  Thomson,  and  they  were 
married  on  his  appointment  to  the  London  living. 
In  1855  he  was  made  Provost  of  Queen's.  The 
election  was  decided  by  his  vote  in  favour  of  him- 
self, and  his  right  to  take  part  in  it,  being  a  married 
Fellow  in  his  year  of  grace,  was  challenged;  but 
he  persisted,  and  carried  his  point,  not  without 
abiding  friction  between  himself  and  the  dissenting 
electors.  At  Prince  Albert's  death  his  name  was 
found  prominent  on  the  list  of  clergymen  whom 
the  Prince  thought  deserving  of  promotion,  and 
he  became  at  short  intervals  a  Royal  Chaplain, 
Bishop  of  Gloucester  and  Bristol,  Archbishop  of 
York.  The  final  nomination  was  said  to  have  been 



a  compromise  between  the  Queen  and  the  Prime 
Minister.  She  had  marked  her  old  friend  Bishop 
Wilberforce  for  the  see ;  but  Lord  Palmerston, 
between  whom  and  the  Bishop  there  was  constant 
feud,  named  VValdegrave  of  Carlisle;  and,  when 
neither  would  give  way,  threw  upon  the  Queen 
the  responsibility  of  making  the  appointment. 
She  was  at  Coburg,  and  on  receiving  Palmerston's 
letter  desired  to  have  the  names  read  over  to  her. 
Of  several  names  she  said  tl  No — they  will  not  do  "  : 
at  the  last,  when  Thomson's  came,  she  said — "  Yes, 
let  it  be  he ;  the  Prince  always  thought  well  of 
him."  As  Archbishop,  Thomson  hardly  fulfilled 
the  expectation  which  dictated  and  accompanied 
his  rapid  rise.  Unpopular  in  London  society,  it 
was  early  understood  that  he  would  never  succeed 
to  the  higher  throne  of  Canterbury.  This  he  had 
always  expected  would  be  his ;  S.  Wilberforce's 
diary  notes  on  his  non-appointment,  "  Thomson 
much  disappointed."  He  preached,  now  and 
again,  extraordinarily  eloquent  sermons  :  Dean 
Stanley,  and  Thompson,  afterwards  Master  of 
Trinity,  both  noted  discourses  of  his  in  West- 
minster Abbey  as  amongst  the  best  which  they 
had  ever  heard  ;  and  his  rare  appearances  on  public 
platforms  were  marked  by  addresses  of  the  very 
highest  order ;  but  these  efforts  were  isolated  and 
eruptive ;  so  that,  unquestionably  in  his  own  time 
the  ablest  prelate  on  the  bench,  he  left  no  mark 
either  on  his  Church  or  on  the  community.  His 
presence  was  remarkably  imposing,  of  great  bulk 
and  stature,  with  massive  features,  sonorous  de- 
livery, dignified  and  stately  manners.  Imprudently 


exerting  himself  when  unwell  in  a  December 
Ordination,  the  action  of  his  heart  failed,  and  he 
died  on  Christmas  Day,  1890. 

I  have  said  nothing  of  the  early  parochial 
Oxford  pulpits.  At  the  opening  of  the  Thirties 
Evangelicalism  was  dominant,  trumpeted  by  a 
tremendous  Boanerges  named  Bulteel,  whose 
powerful  but  sulphurous  sermons  filled  St.  Ebbe's 
Church.  He  made  a  name  for  himself  outside  his 
squalid  parish,  attacked  the  Heads  of  Houses  for 
sloth  and  unfaithfulness  in  a  violent  University 
sermon,  whose  impeachments  they  but  feebly 
answered,  practised  faith  healing  successfully  in 
cases  where  physicians  were  in  vain,  ministered  in 
conventicles,  found  his  licence  revoked  by  Bishop 
Lloyd,  whom  he  thereupon  denounced  publicly  as 
"  an  officer  of  Antichrist,"  built  a  chapel  of  his  own, 
and  founded  a  not  long-lived  sect  of  Bulteelites. 
Reviving  High  Churchism  first  echoed  in  St.  Peter's 
Church,  about  1835,  from  the  lips  and  practice  of 
Edward  Denison  and  his  curate  Walter  Kerr 
Hamilton,  both  afterwards  Bishops  of  Salisbury. 
I  remember  the  beautiful  old  Norman  edifice  in  my 
boyhood,  neglected  and  dilapidated  :  I  sat  with  my 
mother  in  a  large,  high,  square  pew,  into  which 
we  locked  ourselves  on  entering,  and  prayed  for 
their  most  gracious  Majesties  King  William  and 
Queen  Adelaide.  A  lady  in  the  adjacent  pew 
interested  me  always  by  turning  eastward  and 
thereby  facing  us  when  the  Creed  was  recited ; 
it  was  explained  to  me  that  she  was  "a  very  old- 
fashioned  person."  In  1836  the  church  was  re- 


stored  (we  worshipping  the  while  in  Merton 
Chapel),  an  ugly  clerk's  house  in  the  churchyard 
swept  away,  the  vast  family  pews  abolished,  the 
services  improved  to  a  pitch  for  that  time  highly 
ornate,  starveling  as  it  would  seem  now.  Denison 
was  followed  by  Hamilton  ;  Hamilton  by  William 
Adams,  author  of  the  once  famous  "  Allegories "; 
Adams  by  Stewart  Bathurst,  who  followed  Newman 
to  Rome ;  he  by  Edmund  Hobhouse,  not  long 
deceased,  at  a  great  age,  emeritus  Bishop  of  Nelson. 
Few  churches  have  ever  been  so  shepherded  in 
a  succession  so  long  unbroken.  It  was  believed 
that  a  particular  set  of  Merton  rooms  in  which 
these  pastors  lived  held  an  occult  power  of 
episcopal  generation ;  certainly  I  have  breakfasted 
there  with  three  occupants  who  afterwards  became 

Good  men  as  all  these  were,  yet,  with  the 
exception  of  Adams,  who  at  his  early  death  left 
behind  him  a  volume  of  touching  sermons,  none 
of  them  made  the  drum  ecclesiastic  musically  re- 
sonant. That  distinction  was  reserved  for  Goul- 
burn  in  the  opening  of  the  Forties.  "'Obhouse 
and  'Ansell  are  below  par/'  said  Mr.  Hounslow, 
the  Radical  grocer  in  High  Street,  to  a  stranger  in 
quest  of  Sunday  pabulum  ;  "  go  to  'Olywell  and 
'ear  Goulburn."  Always  noted  as  a  preacher,  Goul- 
burn  was  a  man  rather  lovable  than  eminent,  a  man 
who  sank  into  the  surroundings  of  the  high  posts 
he  filled,  discharging  their  duties  conscientiously, 
but  affixing  to  them  no  stamp  of  genius.  A  Balliol 
Scholar,  he  was  intimate  with  Lake,  Stanley,  Brodie, 
Waldegrave,  Golightly ;  gained  a  First  Class,  and 


became  Fellow  of  Merton.  These  laurels  won, 
he  started  on  a  tour  with  Stanley,  which  was 
terminated  by  an  accident  to  his  leg.  Stanley  used 
to  tell  how,  overhearing  from  his  bed  the  physician, 
Dr.  Bruno — Byron's  incapable  doctor  sixteen  years 
before — express  his  fear  lest  suppuration  should 
set  in,  the  invalid  called  out  in  his  mincing  tones, 
"  Sup-pu-ration — I  never  heard  the  word  before, 
but  it  exactly  expresses  what  I  feel."  Rescued 
from  suppuration  and  from  Bruno,  he  returned 
home  to  take  Orders  and  to  become  Vicar  of  the 
small  Holywell  parish.  His  wife  was  of  the  Aynhoe 
Cartwright  family ;  he  brought  his  bride  to  the 
pretty  little  Holywell  Cottage,  now  swept  away, 
and  at  once  made  his  mark  as  a  preacher.  Towns- 
people and  undergraduates  swelled  his  congre- 
gations, finding  in  the  frankness,  variety,  humanism, 
of  his  sermons  a  refreshing  contrast  to  the  texti- 
ferous  platitudes  or  the  dry  formalisms  emitted 
respectively  from  neighbouring  Low  or  High 
Church  pulpits.  Nor  was  the  absurd  strain  wanting 
which  ran  ever  through  his  character,  actions,  talk. 
Delicious  bits  of  finical  rhetoric,  set  off  by  his 
detached,  tinkling,  monosyllabic  delivery,  come 
up  to  me  out  of  the  past;  as  when,  preaching  on 
the  Jews  of  Berea,  he  began,  "  It  may  be  predicated 
of  the  Bereans  that  they  permitted  no  extraneous 
circumstances  to  counteract  the  equipoise  of  their 
equanimity  "  ;  or  when,  magnifying  the  wisdom  of 
Providential  adaptation  in  nature,  he  concreted  his 
illustration  by  a  lt  min-now,"  which  swam  so  often 
into  our  ken  as  to  be  at  last  greeted  with  a  general 
titter.  His  theology,  baldly  Calvinistic  at  the  outset. 


was  afterwards  modified  by  contact  with  Samuel 
Wilberforce,  when  that  astute  prelate,  all  things  to 
all  men  in  his  diocese,  muzzled  his  Low  Church 
opponents — Litton,  Hayward  Cox,  John  Hill,  and 
others — by  making  their  like-minded  friend  Goul- 
burn  one  of  his  examining  chaplains.  It  culminated 
finally  in  that  dexterously  balanced  Anglican  ortho- 
doxy which,  whatever  its  effect  upon  their  intel- 
lectual expansion,  earns  for  its  doctrinaires  the 
valuable  repute  of  "soundness,"  and  so  "not 
unfrequently  leads  to  positions  of  considerable 
emolument." l  It  led  Goulburn  to  a  post  for  which 
he  was  certainly  not  suited,  the  Headmastership 
of  Rugby.  In  the  competition  his  rival  was  Lake, 
on  all  grounds  a  fitter  man.  Lake  was  essentially 
an  educator,  Goulburn  restrictedly  an  evangelist. 
Lake  represented  all  the  tendencies  and  traditions 
which  had  made  Rugby  the  first  school  in  England, 
Goulburn  must  inevitably  thwart  them  :  to  the 
Tory  trustees  who  held  the  election  in  their  hands, 
and  who  later  on  appointed  Hayman,  that  was 
Goulburn's  strongest  recommendation.  They 
chose  Goulburn  and  rejected  Lake,  causing  Arthur 
Stanley,  for  once  in  his  placable  life,  to  lose  his 
temper  and  say  hard  things. 

Goulburn  went  to  Rugby  with  misgivings,  found 
the  work  uncongenial,  after  eight  years  resigned  it 
with  delight.  "  He  was  not/'  writes  to  me  an  old 
pupil  who  was  in  his  house  and  loved  him  well, 
"he  was  not  intended  to  be  a  headmaster.  He 
was  a  mediaeval  saint  with  great  social  power ; 
simplicity  itself,  with  the  pomposity  of  a  D,P,  of 
1  Page  124. 


those  times  :  he  used,  for  instance,  to  go  out  to 
dinner  in  his  cassock,  and  never  appeared  without 
it  among  us  boys.  He  preached  on  excellent 
theses,  but  loved  Latinised  expressions  :  '  Let  the 
scintillations  of  your  wit  be  like  the  coruscations 
of  summer  lightning,  lambent  but  innocuous.'  He 
believed  in  surprises  to  attract  attention ;  would 
preach  on  occasions  from  the  eagle  instead  of 
from  the  pulpit,  would  choose  as  a  text  'The 
King  of  Jericho,  one ;  the  King  of  Ai,  one/  and 
so  on,  reading  out  all  the  thirty-one  in  order ; 
would  conceal  a  horsewhip  under  his  gown  in 
school,  and  crack  it  to  help  out  a  passage  in 
Aristophanes.  He  seldom  knew  one  boy  from 
another  :  '  Well,  little  boy,  what  do  you  want  ?  ' 
passing  his  hand  over  one's  head  in  a  fatherly 
way,  but  having  forgotten  all  the  previous  inter- 
view. He  was  fleeced  by  his  servants,  who  starved 
us ;  adored  personally  by  Benson,  who  saw  his 
goodness ;  ridiculed  by  Bradley,  who  saw  his 
failures  :  Compton  was  his  relative,  and  the  first 
attempt  at  a  science  master  in  the  school ;  a  good 
attempt,  but  badly  carried  out.  When  Goulburn 
left,  he  tried  to  keep  out  Temple  in  favour  of  Fan- 
shawe  from  Bedford,  but  happily  failed.  Temple 
restored  discipline  by  a  system  of  superannuation. 
Had  it  not  been  for  Tom  Evans,  Bradley,  Benson, 
as  assistant  masters,  the  teaching  would  have  been 
as  bad  a  failure  as  the  discipline.  And  yet  he  was 
an  ideal  gentleman  and  a  Christian." 

He  returned  to  the  field  in  which  he  was  an 
expert,  the  field  of  parochial  and  pastoral  work, 
at  Quebec  Chapel  and  St.  John's,  Paddington ; 


until  he  made  perhaps  the  second  blunder  of 
his  life  by  accepting  the  Deanery  of  Norwich. 
As  Dean  he  found  scope  for  his  preaching  power, 
but  was  deficient  in  the  secular  and  practical  side 
of  chapter  work.  At  this  time  were  written  many 
of  his  devotional  manuals,  and  by  these  his  name 
will  be  remembered  longest.  Once  or  twice  he 
took  public  action  ;  when  Stanley  was  made  Select 
Preacher  at  Oxford  he  protested  by  resigning  the 
similar  office  which  he  held ;  but  the  step  left  un- 
touched their  personal  friendship,  and  on  Stanley's 
death  he  preached  a  funeral  sermon  which,  since 
Burgon  sternly  denounced  it,  was  probably  in  all 
ways  generous  and  Christian.  He  wrote  afterwards 
the  Life  of  that  eccentric  divine.  Few  men  have 
offered  scope  so  inviting  to  a  biographer — at  once 
poet,  critic,  artist,  theologian,  buffoon,  at  once  in- 
decently scurrilous  and  riotously  comic,  he  lived 
and  died  as  if  to  inspire  above  all  things  a  brief 
and  brilliant  memoir :  but  Goulburn  produced 
two  ponderous  volumes  as  unreadable  as  the 
"  Guicciardini "  of  Macaulay's  anecdote.  After  a 
time  his  deanery  palled  on  him  as  his  head- 
mastership  had  done  :  its  quasi-episcopal  rubs 
and  worries,  exhilarating  to  a  Wilberforce  or  a 
Magee,  were  to  him  intolerable;  he  long  pined 
to  be  rid  of  it,  and  at  last  resigned  it.  The  closing 
public  act  of  his  life  was  to  join  with  Denison, 
Liddon,  and  a  few,  a  very  few,  besides,  in  a  de- 
claration, called  forth  by  "  Lux  Mundi,"  on  the 
"  Truth  of  Holy  Scripture,"  which,  defiant  of 
German  exegesis,  of  geological  discovery,  of  uni- 
versally accepted  Darwinism,  restated  solemnly, 



sadly,  helplessly,  the  abandoned  theories  of  un- 
adjusted Biblical  criticism.  There  is  a  double 
pathos  in  such  spectacles,  familiar  as  they  are  to 
times  of  mental  change :  pathos  in  the  heart- 
sickness  of  the  seniors,  left  to  stand  alone  in 
ancient  ways,  whence  all  but  they  have  fled ; 
from  which  the  forces  of  enlarged  conviction 
have  driven  the  disciples  and  the  friends  who 
once  walked  with  them  there ;  pathos  in  the  half- 
compassionate  reluctance  of  the  younger  men  to 
break  away,  galled  by  the  stigma  of  desertion, 
yet  submissive  to  the  beckoning  of  a  hand  their 
elders  cannot  see.  Some  of  us,  it  may  be,  can 
remain  apart  from  and  feel  sympathy  with  both  ; 
discerning,  from  our  vantage  ground  outside  the 
conflict,  that  the  old  paths  and  the  new,  if  tra- 
versed in  obedience  to  the  prick  of  conscience 
and  of  duty,  lead  to  the  same  goal  at  last. 

I  come  to  the  last  of  my  Papavera,  to  William 
Sewell,  subsequent  founder  of  Radley,  prominent 
Fellow  of  Exeter  in  the  Thirties,  a  flourishing 
and  conspicuous,  yet  somehow  a  questionable, 
specimen — what  botanists  call  Papaver  dubimn — 
among  the  poppies  of  his  day.  In  fluency  of 
speech,  fertility  of  mind,  fascination  of  manner, 
he  had  no  contemporary  rival ;  his  public  teach- 
ing, like  his  private  talk,  was  ever  rousing,  per- 
suasive, lofty;  it  seemed  that  those  eloquent  lips 
could  open  only  to  emit  godlike  sentiments  and 
assert  uncompromising  principles.  In  truth,  they 
were  not  often  closed  :  he  was  Select  Preacher 
and  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy ;  his  lectures 

SEWELL  275 

on  Plato  and  on  Shakespeare  filled  Exeter  College 
Hall ;  while  in  London,  as  Whitehall  Preacher, 
he  drew  large  crowds,  amused  to  hear  leading 
statesmen  of  the  day  denounced  under  the  names 
of  Herod  and  Pontius  Pilate.  "More  Puseyite 
than  Pusey,"  his  emotional  theology  attracted  a 
shallower  yet  scarcely  a  less  numerous  class  than 
Newman's  inspired  sermons.  1 1  seemed  that  a  mitre, 
a  Headmastership,  or  at  least  the  Headship  of  his 
College,  must  descend  upon  so  gifted  and  so  popular 
an  aspirant :  yet  standing  for  Winchester  in  1835 
he  was  beaten  by  Moberly  ;  yet  when  old  Collier 
Jones,  the  MapiKat^  'Icovevs  of  Scott's  verses, 
died  in  1839,  Richards,  not  Sewell,  was  elected  ; 
and,  in  spite  of  the  promptings  of  the  Ttmesy  whose 
young  chief  Walter  had  been  his  pupil,  right  reverend 
Howleys  and  Blomfields  at  headquarters  were 
understood  to  shake  doubtful  wigs  when  his  name 
was  mentioned  for  promotion.  A  taint  of  super- 
ficiality clung  to  him  :  "  Sewell  is  very  unreal,"  wrote 
Newman  to  Bowden  in  1840;  "Namby-pamby" 
Hampden  called  him  ;  ll  Preaches  his  dreams  "  was 
shrewd  Shuttleworth's  comment  on  his  University 
sermons  ;  "  Sewell,"  said  Jowett  in  1848,  "  Sewell, 
talking  rashly  and  positively,  .  .  .  has  gone  far  to 
produce  that  very  doubt  and  scepticism  of  which  he 
himself  complains."  "  How  silent  you  have  been, 
Jacobson,"  said  he  at  the  end  of  a  large  gathering 
in  his  rooms,  where,  as  usual,  he  had  done  all 
the  talking  ;  "  you  have  not  said  anything  worth 
listening  to."  "  Nor  heard,"  was  Jacobson's  answer. 
So  through  the  Forties  he  continued  Tutor  of 
Exeter — "excessively  discursive,"  says  Dean  Boyle  ; 


"would  commence  a  lecture  on  Aristotle  and  end 
with  the  Athanasian  Creed  or  the  beauties  of  Gothic 
architecture."  "Sewell's  last"  formed  the  staple 
of  Exeter  breakfast  parties.  I  well  remember  his 
cremation  of  Froude's  "  Nemesis  of  Faith/'  a  feat 
reduced  from  myth  to  fact  in  Max  Miiller's  "  Auld 
Lang  Syne."  "What  is  meant  by  gold,  frankin- 
cense, myrrh  ? "  he  propounded  on  another  day. 
The  regulation  answer  was  given.  "  Yes  ;  but  shall 
you  understand  me  if  I  tell  you  that  they  also  mean 
logic,  rhetoric,  and  metaphysics  ?  "  Many  more  I 
could  relate,  but  ex  ungue  leonem.  Meanwhile  men 
around  him  were  moving  on,  and  he  marked  time  : 
opposed  in  a  once  famous  hysterical  sermon  the 
erection  of  the  new  Museum;  wrote,  under  the 
title  of  "  Lord  John  Russell's  Postbag,"  a  series 
of  lampoons,  discreditable  in  their  imputations  and 
distortive  of  his  opponents'  motives,  against  the  Uni- 
versity Commission.  He  was  to  learn  that  v/3pk 
has  its  nemesis  no  less  than  faith  :  a  translation 
of  the  Odes  of  Horace  from  his  pen  was  mercilessly 
gibbeted  in  the  Edinburgh  by  John  Conington,  and 
all  England  laughed  over  a  review  by  Conybeare 
of  his  "  Year's  Volume  of  Sermons."  Both  articles 
were,  of  course,  intentionally  punitive ;  the  second 
was  good-humoured,  and  the  savagery  of  the  first 
was  justifiable.  I  have  not  seen  the  Horace  for 
fifty  years,  but  some  of  its  absurdities  still  cling  to 
me.  Here  is  his  opening  of  the  Parentis  olim : 

"  If  a  man  upon  a  time 
Ever  has  with  hand  of  crime 
Wrenched  his  sire's  aged  neck,  I  ween 
'Tts  that  he  hath  eating  been 
Garlic,  deadlier  without  question 

SEWELL  277 

E'en  than  hemlock  :  oh  digestion 
Hard  as  iron  of  the  reaper  ! 
What  is  this,  that  still  so  deep  here, 
Keeps  turmoiling  in  my  chest?" 

We  laughed  ;  but  I  do  not  think  he  lost  general 
repute.  He  remained  the  exciting  public  lecturer 
and  preacher,  the  supremely  fascinating  talker,  the 
genial  and  accomplished  host ;  entertaining  in  this 
last  capacity  the  Archaeological  Society  in  1850  at 
a  magnificent  entertainment,  when  the  Fellows' 
pretty  garden  was  illuminated,  the  great  Service 
tree  hung  with  coloured  lamps,  the  Distin  family 
performing  upon  their  saxhorns  in  the  Hall.  Mean- 
while his  energy  had  broken  out  in  a  new  place. 
One  of  the  cleverest  of  Oxford  skits,  "  The  Grand 
University  Logic  Stakes  of  1849," 1  attributed  to 
Landon  of  Magdalen,  and  academising  with  mar- 
vellous dexterity  the  language  of  the  Turf,  de- 
scribed the  "runners"  for  the  Praelectorship  of 
Logic  in  1839  anc*  1849.  Sewell  bears  the  stable 
name  of  "Gruel,"  so  richly  descriptive  of  his 
querulous  invalid  voice  and  cataplasmic  counte- 
nance that  it  clung  to  him  ever  after. 

"  Gruel  continues  to  make  a  show  in  the  world,  and  stands 
high  in  public  estimation.  He  has  taken  to  a  novel  line,  in 
which  he  has  come  out  rather  strong.  He  appears  to  have  left 
the  Turf  altogether  for  the  present.  After  a  long  season  in 
Ireland,  where,  notwithstanding  several  influential  Backers,  he 
seems  to  have  been  a  failure,  he  returned  to  the  Marquis  of 
Exeter's  stables.  His  lordship  still  drives  him  in  his  four-in- 
hand,  giving  him  an  occasional  day's  work  at  Radley  Farm, 
where  he  goes  to  plough  and  drill  on  a  new  system  with  an 
Irish  horse  called  Single-peeper." 

1  Appendix  R. 


There  was  in  the  Forties  an  epidemic  of  High 
Church  novelettes.  Sewell's  name  appeared  as 
editor  on  the  title-page  of  his  sister's  popular  tales, 
"Amy  Herbert"  and  her  successors,  and  he  him- 
self wrote  "  Hawkstone,"  a  queer,  sensational  pro- 
duction, but  hinting  an  idea  which  had  for  some 
time  taken  possession  of  his  mind — the  establish- 
ment of  an  educational  institution  "  on  a  new 
system,"  on  the  lines  of  our  older  public  schools, 
but  with  minute  observance  of  Prayer  Book  rules. 
The  consequence  elsewhere  attaching  to  slowly 
matured  antiquity  was  here  to  be  ready  made,  by 
sumptuous  fittings  and  surroundings,  academic 
dress,  a  collegiate  framework  in  which  the  head 
was  to  be  a  "warden,"  the  assistant  masters 
"fellows."  St.  Columba's  College  was  opened  in 
1844  at  Stackallan,  in  County  Meath.  Its  warden 
was  Singleton,  afterwards  head  of  Radley ;  its  sub- 
warden  Tripp  of  Worcester,  an  enthusiastic,  amiable, 
not  powerfully  minded  Wykehamist.  It  received 
munificent  support  from  Lord  Adare,  from  the 
Primate,  from  William  Monsell,  and  from  Dr.  Todd 
of  T.C.D. ;  but  friction  soon  arose,  and  the  site  was 
moved  to  Rathfarnham  on  the  Dublin  mountains, 
where  I  believe  it  still  survives.  Sewell  retired  from 
the  enterprise,  and  in  1847  opened  St.  Peter's 
College,  Radley,  on  the  same  lines,  with  Singleton 
as  its  first  warden.  For  this  venture  large  sums 
were  wanted ;  Sewell  obtained  them  by  his  extra- 
ordinary genius  for  enlisting  the  sympathies  and 
picking  the  pockets  of  plutocrats,  calling  frequently, 
it  was  said,  at  great  merchants'  counting-houses 
and  coming  out  with  weighty  cheques.  Soon 

SEWELL  279 

visitors  from  Oxford  saw  cubicled  dormitories, 
a  tastefully  decorated  chapel  with  a  fine  Flemish 
triptych,  magnificent  carved  oak  sideboards,  tables, 
cabinets,  and,  it  must  be  added,  very  few  boys. 

Warden  Singleton,  whom  I  knew  intimately,  was 
one  of  the  noblest  of  men,  self-sacrificing,  generous, 
high-principled,  true  as  truth  itself.  From  consider- 
able private  means  he  had  given  bounteously  to 
both  schools,  lending  money  to  Sewell  as  well. 
The  moral  tone  of  the  boys  under  his  rule  was 
perfect,  their  scholarship  respectable,  they  loved 
him  dearly,  he  managed  economically  the  current 
outlay;  buti\ie  numbers  did  not  rise.  His  manners 
told  unfavourably  on  Oxford  men ;  over  a  pipe 
or  on  board  his  yacht  he  was  a  genial  Irish  gentle- 
man, but  at  the  Radley  high  table,  exalting  not 
his  person  but  his  office,  his  stern  elevation  of 
manner  was  repellent.  Hascoll,  the  sub-warden, 
a  half-pay  naval  captain,  who  spoke  French  and 
was  supposed  to  teach  it,  had  no  social  qualifica- 
tions. The  assistant  masters  were  gentlemen  but 
not  scholars,  for  the  salaries  were  very  low ;  the 
only  honour  man  amongst  them,  Howard  of 
Lincoln,  son  to  Charles  Howard,  R.A.;  afterwards 
Director-General  of  Public  Instruction  at  Bombay  ; 
spent  all  his  time  in  plaguing  Singleton  and 
agitating  for  a  stronger  brew  of  college  beer ; 
for  by  the  statutes  the  "  fellows  "  were  independent 
of  and  could  control  the  warden,  and  three  amongst 
them  succeeded  in  driving  Singleton  from  his 
post.  They  chose  instead  of  him  William  Heathcote 
of  New  College,  who  promptly  dismissed  the  insur- 
rectionary cabal ;  but,  discovering  after  a  time 


the  unsound  financial  basis  of  the  school,  and 
prevented  from  obtaining  a  proper  audit  of  the 
accounts  by  Sewell's  refusal  to  explain  a  certain 
large  and  unaccountable  deficit,  he  in  his  turn 
threw  up  the  post.  Sewell  now  perforce  took 
the  reins  himself,  with  a  great  name,  magnificent 
conceptions,  and  a  genial  acquiescence  in  Ancient 
Pistol's  motto,  "  Base  is  the  slave  who  pays."  The 
school  went  up  with  a  rush,  the  " eight"  rowed 
at  Henley  ;  entertainments  were  given  on  saints' 
days,  the  " college  plate"  on  the  tables,  the  senior 
boy,  "  Bob  "  Risley,  welcoming  the  guests  in  Latin 
speeches;  Sewell  proclaiming  in  terms  of  pious 
gratitude  that  the  school  was  out  of  debt,  at  a  time 
when  I  knew  him  to  owe  Singleton  ^5000,  and 
more  than  suspected  far  heavier  liabilities  behind. 
In  fact,  the  splendour,  like  Timon's,  "  masked  an 
empty  coffer."  The  school  had  never  paid ;  after 
the  first  capital  was  exhausted  reckless  purchases 
had  gone  on  ;  cases  of  decorative  treasures,  in- 
cluding Agra  marbles  at  a  guinea  a  foot,  lay  still 
packed  in  outhouses  as  they  had  arrived,  to  be  sold 
for  a  trifle  when  the  bubble  burst ;  heavy  loans 
were  obtained,  heavier  debts  heaped  up  ;  boys  were 
taken  for  six  years'  payment  in  advance  at  largely 
reduced  fees,  which  vanished  as  soon  as  they  were 
received.  Finally,  to  celebrate  the  opening  of 
a  new  gymnasium,  which  cost  somebody  £1600, 
a  Belshazzar  feast  was  given  to  all  who  then 
or  in  the  past  had  been  connected  with  St. 
Columba's  or  with  Radley.  A  vast  assembly  came  ; 
Sewell,  in  full  Doctor's  dress  of  scarlet  and  black 
velvet,  welcomed  us — as  usual,  a  perfect  host.  We 

SEWELL  281 

sat  to  a  splendid  banquet ;  Dan  Godfrey's  band 
discoursed  sweet  music ;  600  Ib.  of  strawberries,  we 
were  told,  covered  the  tables  at  dessert,  and  all  went 
merry  as  a  marriage  bell.  After  dinner,  not 
waiting  for  the  concert,  as  my  wife  and  I  sat 
expecting  our  carriage  in  an  unlighted  corner, 
we  saw  Hubbard  of  the  Bank  of  England,  whom 
I  knew  to  have  made  large  advances,  pacing  up  and 
down  alone,  with  anxious  face  and  corroded  brow. 
"  The  handwriting  on  the  wall,"  I  whispered  ; 
and  so  it  was.  The  reckless  extravagance  of  that 
evening  scared  him ;  a  closer  inspection  of  the 
school  affairs  revealed  secrets  of  indebtedness 
which  had  been  hitherto  concealed  from  him. 
Within  a  few  days  he  seized  the  place  as  principal 
creditor,  sent  Sewell  right  away,  repudiated  all 
his  debts,  cancelled  the  claims  of  parents  who  had 
paid  in  advance,  sold  all  unnecessary  splendours, 
placed  in  charge  Norman,  one  of  the  masters 
who  was  highly  popular  with  the  boys,  to  work  the 
school  as  his  property  in  reduction  of  its  dues 
to  him.  Sewell  came  into  Oxford  a  broken 
man,  then  disappeared ;  lived  for  some  years  on 
the  Continent;  returned  to  England,  and  died  in 
1874,  at  the  house  of  a  nephew  near  Manchester. 



"  Since  all  that  is  not  heaven  must  fade , 
Light  be  the  hand  of  Ruin  laid 

Upon  the  home  I  love : 
With  hilling  spell  let  soft  Decay 
Steal  on,  and  spare  the  giant  sway, 
The  crash  of  tower  and  grove?* 


Venerable  Oxford — Ancient  Landmarks — The  Greyhound — Mother 
Jeffs — Mother  Louse—  Mother  George  —  Mother  Goose  —  The 
Angel — Some  Old  Establishments — The  High — Jubber's  and 
Sadler's — Convivialities — Changes — The  Oxford  that  I  love. 

THE  Psalmist  bade  his  countrymen  mark  the 
towers,  bulwarks,  palaces  of  their  historic  city  in  its 
prime  of  queenliness,  that  they  might  "  tell  it  to  the 
generations  following."  What  would  the  Biblical 
student  give  for  such  a  Hestiagraph  to-day  ?  Many 
a  fragmentary  chapter  of  Jewish  story  might  be  well 
replaced  by  a  brief  record,  contemporary,  personal, 
picturesque,  of  the  scenes  which  are  now  to  us  mere 
shadow-names  :  Solomon's  Palace  and  the  Royal 
Tombs,  the  Tyropceon  megaliths  and  the  Bakers' 
Street,  the  pools  of  Enrogel,  Gihon,  Siloam,  the 
gilded  dome  of  Zion  "towering  o'er  her  marble 
stairs."  Oxford  is  not,  like  Jerusalem,  a  buried 
city ;  yet  the  Oxford  of  to-day  is  not  the  Oxford 
of  the  Thirties ;  ever  and  again  as  I  recall  events 

and   personages    they    need   the   background   and 



the  setting  which  enshrined  them  then,  and  is 
now  impaired  or  swept  away.  The  dreaming  spires 
of  the  sweet  city  show  still  from  the  Cumnor  or 
the  Rose  Hill  heights,  as  they  showed  to  Matthew 
Arnold  sixty  years  ago  ;  he  could  not  now  go  on  to 
say  that  "she  lies  steeped  in  sentiment,  spreading 
her  gardens  to  the  moonlight,  and  whispering  from 
her  towers  the  last  enchantments  of  the  Middle 
Age,"  for  the  encroaching  nineteenth  century  has 
dissolved  that  still  removed  charm.1  Tram-lines 
mar  to-day  the  pontifical  symmetry  of  Magdalen 
Bridge ;  an  intruding  chasm  breaks  the  perfect 
High  Street  curves  ;  St.  Mary's  spire,  tapering  from 
its  nest  of  pinnacles,  has  been  twice  deformed 
by  restoration  ;  Vanbrugh's  quaint  house  in  Broad 
Street  is  sacrificed  to  a  stodgy  Indian  Institute  : 
Christchurch  Meadow  with  its  obstructed  river 
banks  tempts  me  to  render  railing  for  railing ; 
the  Broad  Walk  veterans  are  disarrayed  or  fallen  ; 
a  vulgar  and  discordant  <pile  has  banished  the  civil- 
suited  nymphs  of  Merton  Grove.  Visiting  extant 

1  Let  me  go  back  further  still,  and  embalm  forgotten  lines 
from  Tom  Warton's  "  Triumph  of  I  sis  "  : 

"Ye  fretted  pinnacles,  ye  fanes  sublime, 
Ye  towers  that  wear  the  mossy  vest  of  time, 
Ye  massy  piles  of  old  munificence, 
At  once  the  pride  of  learning  and  defence  ; 
Ye  cloisters  pale,  that  length'ning  on  the  sight 
To  contemplation,  step  by  step,  invite  ; 
Ye  high-arched  walks,  where  oft  the  whispers  clear 
Of  harps  unseen  have  swept  the  poet's  ear  ; 
Ye  temples  dim,  where  pious  duty  pays 
Her  holy  hymns  for  ever  echoing  praise  ; 
Lo  !  your  loved  Isis  from  the  bordering  vale 
With  all  a  mother's  fondness  bids  you  Hail  !  " 


Oxford,  I  should  explore  the  venerable  haunts,  seek 
the  ancient  Termini,  probe  the  mouldering  associa- 
tions of  High  and  Broad,  of  Iffley  Road,  and 
Cowley  Marsh,  and  Bullingdon  all  in  vain,  like 
Rogers'  old  man  wandering  in  quest  of  something. 
The  change  had  begun  when  Arnold  wept  over 
Thyrsis'  urn — "In  the  two  Hinkseys  nothing  keeps 
the  same  "  ;  it  is  far  more  devastating  to-day.  Let 
me  in  this  last  paper  recover  where  I  can  its  erased 
or  vanishing  landmarks  — forntce  veneres  captare 
fugaces — as  a  setting  to  the  recorded  incidents 
and  characters  which  they  should  illustrate  and 

In  the  early  Thirties,  then,  railroads  and  en- 
closures had  not  girdled  Oxford  proper  with  a 
coarse  suburban  fringe.  On  the  three  approaches 
to  the  town,  the  Henley,  Banbury,  Abingdon 
Roads,  it  was  cut  off,  clear  as  a  walled  and  gated 
Jericho,  from  the  adjacent  country.  One  side  of 
it  there  is  which  I  now  never  dare  approach  : 
enclosure  Acts  and  jerry  builders  and  villatic 
burghers  have  effaced  by  "long  straggling  streets 
of  ricketty  cottages "  what  was  once  the  most 
harmonious  avenue  to  the  most  beautiful  city  in 
the  world.  In  the  days  when  Tullus  was  Consul 
you  sped  through  Nuneham,  Sandford,  and  Little- 
more  behind  the  four  horses  of  the  Tantivy  or 
the  Rival,  until  from  Rose  Hill  top  you  saw  and 
never  lost  again  the  long  line  of  pinnacles  and 
spires  bosomed  in  foliage  less  obscuring  than  to- 
day. Past  Rose  Bank,  the  home  of  Newman's 
mother  and  her  two  clever  girls,  the  road  ran  for 
a  short  distance  much  as  it  runs  now,  then  opened 


houseless  and  hedgeless  all  the  way,  marked  only 
by  one  towering  hawthorn  known  as  the  "half- 
way bush/'  to  the  turnpike  which  barred  access 
to  Magdalen  Bridge.  Far  to  the  right  stretched 
the  northern  view,  across  Cowley  Marsh,  the 
windows  of  newly-built  Headington  Asylum  glaring 
in  the  western  sun,  up  the  Bullingdon  ascent, 
where  I  have  many  times  shot  snipe  and  gathered 
Parnassia  and  butterwort,  arid  so  away  to  Shot- 
over.  On  the  left  were  the  unbroken  willow-dotted 
I  sis  meadows,  rising  beyond  the  gleaming  river 
into  Bagley  Wood,  and  to  the  line  of  Berkshire 
hills  crowned  by  Cumnor  Hurst  and  the  Gipsy 
Scholar's  Tree.  As  you  neared  Oxford,  on  what 
is  now  Christchurch  Cricket-ground  were  unen- 
closed acres  of  wheat,  decked  with  poppies, 
scabious,  corn  cockle,  and  blue  centaury  ;  on  the 
opposite  side  towered  three  vast  black  hillocks, 
to  and  from  which  all  day  long  passed  the  Corpora- 
tion carts  laden  with  coal  refuse  of  a  thousand 
hearths,  to  be  sifted  and  sold  as  cinder  or  as  ash. 
Along  the  smooth  hard  road  streamed  in  endless 
variety  the  vehicles  of  pre-railroad  days ;  mail 
coaches  by  the  score,  gigs,  tandems,  carriages  and 
four,  carriers'  carts  from  adjacent  villages  and 
towns,  mighty  petorrita  of  the  great  London  stage- 
waggoners,  lowlier  wains  heaped  high  with  hay  and 
corn.  The  bordering  gravel  path  was  sprinkled 
in  early  morning  by  troops  of  fresh-faced  girls 
bearing  poised  upon  their  heads  high  wicker 
baskets  filled  with  fruit,  vegetables,  turnip-tops ; 
in  the  afternoon  by  academical  pedestrians  in 
pairs  or  triplets,  transacting  the  regulation  grind 


to  Iffley,  Cowley,  or  Sandford.  Not  that  the 
word  "grind"  was  invented  then;  that  and  "con- 
stitutional "  were  subsequent  terms,  the  last,  I  think, 
first  made  classical  by  Miss  Cornelia  Blimber. 
Dons  were  there  as  well  as  undergraduates,  even 
one  or  two  Heads  of  Houses ;  old  Sneyd  of  All 
Souls,  and  tall  Plumtre  of  University,  walking 
daily  solitary  and  solemn,  sometimes  Gaisford 
with  a  handsome  daughter,  and  Macbride  with  a 
daughter  who  was  certainly  not  handsome.  There 
too  on  most  days  was  to  be  seen  a  regiment  of 
boys,  commanded  by  a  stern  Orbilius  clad  in 
spencer  and  black  gaiters,  which  was  known  as 
"Slatter's  School."  Located  at  Rose  Hill,  it  was 
famous  far  and  near ;  the  best  Oxford  families 
sent  to  it  all  their  sons.  Amongst  my  school- 
fellows were  Le  Mesurier,  a  brilliant  scholar 
of  Corpus,  who  died  young ;  Haggitt,  son  to 
Lord  Harcourt's  Nuneham  chaplain  mentioned 
in  Madame  D'Arblay's  diary ;  and  afterwards,  as 
Wegg  Prosser,  M.P.  for  Hereford ;  Stowe,  First 
Class  and  Fellow  of  Oriel,  who  went  out  as 
Times  correspondent  to  the  Crimea  and  there  died ; 
Faussett,  till  lately  the  efficient  Bursar  of  Christ- 
church  ;  and  Fred  Thistlethwaite,  famous  in 
London  society  for  his  immense  wealth  and  his 
manner  of  spending  it :  he  achieved  unique  dis- 
tinction by  running  away  from  Eton,  Harrow,  and 
Winchester  in  succession  :  of  the  three  schools 
he  found  Winchester  the  most  intolerable,  and 
resigned  it  after  three  days'  trial.  His  father,  a 
Hampshire  squire,  owned  land  in  what  was  then 
the  village  of  Paddington ;  converted  into  West- 


bournia  it  became  golden,  and  Fred  was  the 
heres  dignior.  Slatter  was  a  remarkable  man ;  an 
accomplished  chemist,  and  one  of  the  best  astro- 
nomers of  his  time,  having  a  mighty  Herschel's 
telescope  in  constant  use.  He  was  an  admirable 
teacher ;  no  boys  in  England  were  better  grounded 
than  ourselves,  nor  in  a  greater  variety  of  subjects ; 
but  he  was  disciplinary  even  in  excess  of  the 
savage  custom  then  thought  necessary  in  schools. 
His  desk  was  garnished  with  a  quite  curious 
collection  of  canes  incessantly  in  use  a  posteriori, 
and  a  large  wooden  tubeless  thermometer  was 
reserved  for  hand-spanking,  or,  as  he  called  it, 
"  strappado."  To  the  music  of  these  flagellants 
all  our  work  was  set :  stimulated  by  my  mother, 
I  kept  account  during  one  half-year  of  my  own 
personal  tragedies :  they  numbered  fifty-two,  re- 
presenting on  an  average  more  than  two  in  a  week, 
administered  for  no  default  of  immorality  or  dis- 
obedience, but  for  syntactical  fallacies  in  construing, 
or  for  Propria  Quce  Maribus  incompletely  learned. 
We  endured  stoically ;  to  cry  out  was  thought 
pusillanimous ;  like  Dido,  we  wept  in  silence, 
accepting  the  baculi  ictus  as  no  less  germane  to 
progress  than  were  Grammar  and  Delectus.  And 
we  bore  no  malice ;  went  back  to  pay  friendly 
visits  to  our  Busby  after  we  thad  left;  hoped 
nothing  worse  for  him  when  consigned  to  Iffley 
churchyard  than  that  he  might  be  tended  in  his 
repose  by  cherubs  structurally  impervious  to  the 
discipline,  which  even  in  another  world  he  might 
find  impossible  to  lay  aside. 

One  feature   of    the  Via  Appia  to   the   Sacred 


City  I  have  not  mentioned,  old  St.  Clement's 
Church,  standing  in  the  fork  of  the  Headington 
and  Iffley  roads  at  the  entrance  on  Magdalen 
Bridge.  Andrew  Lang  in  his  book  on  Oxford 
tells  us  that  visitors  approaching  it  by  the  eastern 
entrance  would  pass  the  "boiled  rabbit"  on  their 
right.  That  is  not  so;  the  " boiled  rabbit"  was 
built  during  Newman's  curacy  in  the  late  Twen- 
ties ;  the  old  church  bore  no  cuniculous  simili- 
tude. In  the  new  church,  still  extant,  and  notable 
as  one  of  the  few  English  synagogues  where 
sermons  are  still  emitted  in  black  gown,  Newman 
never  officiated  ;  its  Pastor  for  many  years  was 
].  W.  Hughes,  of  Trinity,  whose  family  of  capti- 
vating daughters  filled  on  Sunday  the  spacious 
vicarage  pew.  He  took  private  pupils  to  read  for 
Matriculation  ;  when  two  of  these  had  successively 
married  his  two  eldest  girls,  he  received  the  name 
of  "the  judicious  Hooker."  He  was  a  handsome, 
well-dressed  man,  read  the  service  rhetorically, 
preached  fine  parish  sermons.  He  was  a  hack 
Saint's-Day  preacher  at  St.  Mary's,  earning  five 
guineas  by  the  delivery  of  an  old  sermon  to  a 
church  quite  empty  except  for  the  Vice-Chancellor 
and  Bedels.  When  Isaac  Williams  came  up  to 
reside  as  Trinity  Tutor,  he  made  a  duty  of 
attending  all  University  sermons,  to  the  discom- 
fiture of  Hughes,  who  said  to  Tommy  Short  one 
day,  "  I  wonder  what  Williams  admires  in  my 
sermons ;  he  is  the  only  University  man  who 
attends  them ;  it  is  highly  complimentary,  but 
puts  me  to  the  trouble  of  looking  out  sermons 
appropriate  to  the  days."  The  system  was  after- 


From  an  Engraving  after  a    Water-Colout  belonging  to  the  Family 


wards  altered  :  poor  Hughes,  his  daughters,  and 
his  sermons,  delevit  aetas. 

It  was  in  the  old  church  that  J.  H.  Newman 
served  his  first  curacy  under  the  octogenarian 
antiquary  John  Gutch,  Registrar  of  the  University, 
editor  of  Anthony  Wood,  author  of  "  Collectanea 
Curiosa."  Newman  in  his  letters  to  his  sister 
depicts  gratefully  the  valuable  assistance  rendered 
by  the  old  Rector's  daughters  ;  Sarah,  the  youngest, 
lived  to  her  ninetieth  year,  the  most  efficient  visitor 
of  the  poor  in  Oxford.  For  her  last  ten  years 
she  was  bedridden  when  I  saw  her  shortly 
before  her  death,  in  1882,  she  told  me  how  the 
aged  Cardinal,  visiting  Oxford,  had  climbed  to 
her  room  and  sat  long  beside  her  bed,  affec- 
tionately recalling  old  times  and  people.  From 
church  and  turnpike  you  passed  the  bridge,  the 
Physic  Garden  open  on  your  left ;  for  the  resi- 
dence built  by  Daubeny  had  not  then  risen,  and 
the  Professor,  Dr.  Williams,  lived  in  the  house 
facing  Rose  Lane.  Water-carts  were  not  as  yet 
invented,  and  in  very  dry  weather  the  street  was 
irrigated  from  its  five  or  six  fire-plugs — we  re- 
member Mr.  Bouncer's  F.P.  7  ft. — commencing 
at  Magdalen  elms.  A  sheet  of  canvas  with  a 
wooden  frame  was  laid  across  the  gutter,  and 
the  water  turned  on  until  it  swelled  into  a  pool, 
then  with  curious  dexterity  dashed  in  all  direc- 
tions by  a  bare-legged  Aquarius,  with  the  aid  of 
an  enormous  wooden  shovel.  The  gate  of  Mag- 
dalen was  Jacobaean,  of  debased  style,  but  more 
stately  and  more  in  harmony  with  the  College 
than  any  of  its  successors ;  adjoining  it  was  a 



remnant  of  the  old  Magdalen  Hall,  used  as  the 
choristers'  school,  with  a  modern  cottage  inhabited 
by  the  College  manciple  Stephens.  He  was  the 
most  Waltonian  of  Oxford  anglers,  my  guide  on 
many  an  occasion  to  the  waters  of  Cherwell, 
Upper  Isis,  Windrush,  knowing  every  spot  where 
a  skilfully  dropped  "gudgin"  would  capture  perch 
or  pike.  Where  Magdalen  schoolroom  now  stands, 
was  the  Greyhound  inn.  Under  one  of  the  trees 
sat  always  an  apple  -  faced  old  woman,  Mother 
Jeffs,  selling  tarts  and  fruits,  last  of  a  famous 
sisterhood  whose  names  and  effigies  survive  out 
of  the  hoary  past.  There  was  Mother  Louse, 
whose  portrait  by  Loggan  is  a  prize  to  print  col- 
lectors, the  latest  woman  in  England  to  wear  a 
ruff ;  Mother  George,  who  at  more  than  a  hundred 
years  old  would,  on  payment  of  a  shilling,  thread 
a  needle  without  spectacles;  Mother  Goose  the 
flower-seller,  pictured  by  Dighton  in  a  coloured 
drawing  which  I  reproduce;  her  contemporary  Nell 
Batchelor,  pie- woman,  an  epitaph  to  whose  ''pie- 
house  memory  "  was  inscribed  by  a  forgotten  wit — 

"  Here  under  the  dust  is  the  mouldering  crust 

Of  Eleanor  Batchelor  shoven, 
Well  versed  in  the  art  of  pie,  custard,  and  tart, 
And  the  lucrative  skill  of  the  oven. 

When  she'd  lived  long  enough,  she  made  her  last  puff, 

A  puff  by  her  husband  much  praised  ; 
Now  here  she  doth  lie,  and  makes  a  dirt  pie, 

In  the  hope  that  her  crust  may  be  raised." 

From    Coach    and    Horse    Lane    to    the    Angel 
stretched  a  great  block  of  shops,  swept  away  to 


MAIA,,mrar  OXF  OHU . 

>  army  Jleu  {&.  j-c  liAe  a  I 

'•2nt/iir'f6a/mrtfrtn?a>in  A  f 
^berrtff.  fafau**  >nj-  Xcf&  artfaUt 
Js  ttuftne,*-ratm)  ^  IrtTF  ytu 
)citf  ffrafU/mciAerjvu  sfsiyr 
JEnoraved  from  the  Original  Print 

u  ?ba& 

by  David.  Loggan Price  7-6. 

From  the  Line  Engraving  after  Loggan 


make  room  for  the  new  Schools.  The  corner 
house  was  tenanted  by  James,  a  confectioner,  cook 
of  Alban  Hall,  where  the  traditional  dinner  grace 
ran,  "For  what  James  allows  us  make  us  truly 
thankful "  ;  another  exhibited  the  graceful  plaster 
casts  of  Guidotti,  an  Italian  image-seller,  with  an 
extremely  handsome  English  wife.  The  Angel  was 
the  fashionable  hotel ;  the  carriages  and  four  of 
neighbouring  seigneurs,  Dukes  of  Marlborough 
and  Buckingham,  Lords  Macclesfield,  Abingdon, 
Camoys,  dashed  up  to  it ;  there,  too,  stopped  all 
day  post-chaises,  travelling  chariots,  equipages  of 
bridal  couples,  coaches  from  the  eastern  road ; 
all  visitors  being  received  at  the  hall  door  by  the 
obsequious  manager  Mr.  Bishop,  in  blue  tail-coat 
gilt-buttoned  and  velvet-collared,  buff  waistcoat, 
light  kerseymere  pantaloons,  silk  stockings  and 
pumps,  a  gold  eyeglass  pendent  from  a  broad 
black  ribbon ;  escorted  by  Wallace,  a  huge  mastiff, 
who  made  friends  with  every  guest.  All  of  it 
has  vanished  except  the  spacious  coffee-room, 
which  became  Cooper's  shop.  The  Old  Bank 
stood  where  now  it  stands,  already  some  twenty 
years  old.  It  was  founded  by  two  tradesmen — 
Thompson,  a  gunsmith,  and  Parsons,  a  draper, 
the  latter  brother  to  Dr.  Parsons,  Master  of  Balliol 
and  Bishop  of  Peterborough.  Passing  gallantly 
through  the  money  panic  of  1825,  when  Walter 
Scott  was  ruined  and  half  the  banks  in  England 
broke,  it  rose  into  high  repute,  obtained  the  de- 
posits of  all  the  Colleges,  and  retains  probably 
most  of  them  to-day  under  the  grandsons  of  its 
founders.  Close  to  it  were  Vincent's  Rooms,  the 


home  of  the  Union,  whose  debates  were  held  in 
a  hall  behind  Wyatt's  picture  shop.  In  1835  the 
house  of  Wood,  the  apothecary,  at  the  entrance 
to  Skimmery  Hall  Lane,  was  translated  into 
Spiers',  now  itself  extinct,  but  for  nearly  sixty 
years  inseparable  from  Oxford  life,  better  served 
and  more  artistic  in  its  merchandise  than  any 
shop  in  England.  Its  display  of  papier  mache' 
and  of  ceramic  ware,  surrounding  a  beautiful 
cardboard  model  of  the  Martyrs'  Memorial,  was 
one  of  the  features  in  the  1851  Exhibition. 

There  were  in  the  High  two  superior  con- 
fectioners, Jubber's  and  Sadler's,  where  white-hatted 
Christchurch  dandies  lounged  and  ate  ices  in  the 
afternoons.  The  principal  tailor  was  Joy,  in  a 
large  shop  opposite  Wadham.  He  was  denominated 
Parson  Joy,  having  been  met  in  the  Long  Vacation 
travelling  on  the  Continent  with  his  brother,  as 

Captain  and  the  Rev. Joy.     He  bequeathed  his 

book  debts  to  one  of  his  daughters  ;  they  amounted 
to  ^4000,  and  she  used  to  say  that  every  penny 
was  recovered.  The  two  large  booksellers  were 
Talboys,  in  the  handsome  pillared  shop  opposite 
St.  Peter's  Church,  and  Joseph  Parker,  in  the  Turl, 
whose  management  of  the  Bible  Press  had  converted 
a  heavy  debt  into  .£100,000  of  profit,  and  who  had 
lately  made  a  hit  by  publishing  two  unassuming 
and  anonymous  little  volumes,  destined,  as  "The 
Christian  Year" — "The  Sunday  Puzzle"  Sydney 
Smith  called  it — to  achieve  unprecedented  popu- 
larity. Its  success  was  a  surprise  both  to  Keble 
and  his  friends.  Isaac  Williams,  to  whom  he  had 
shown  it,  did  not  admire  it.  Froude  feared  that 



From  a  Coloured  Lithograph  by  Dighton 


people  reading  it  would  take  the  author  for  a 
Methodist.  So  careless  of  it  was  Keble,  that  he 
lost  the  little  red  book  into  which  it  was  written, 
and  it  was  printed  from  a  copy  he  had  given  to 
Rickards  of  Oriel.  "It  will  be  still-born/'  said 
he,  as  he  left  the  manuscript  with  Baxter ;  "  I 
publish  it  only  in  obedience  to  my  father's  wishes." 
The  chief  wine  merchant  was  Latimer,  a  tall, 
gentlemanlike,  handsome  man,  with  a  fine  house 
on  Headington  Hill.  One  of  his  stories  deserves 
recital.  A  county  magnate,  notorious  for  his 
meanness,  had  ordered  six  dozen  of  a  fine  brown 
sherry,  which  he  sent  back  by-and-by,  minus  one 
bottle,  with  a  message  that  the  Duke  had  tried  the 
wine  and  disapproved  of  it.  lt  Put  it  back,"  said 
Latimer  to  his  cellarer,  "  and  we'll  call  it  the  Duke's 
wine."  Entertaining  a  party  at  luncheon  soon 
after,  he  narrated  the  incident,  and  proposed  that 
they  should  try  the  wine.  Up  came  a  bottle ;  the 
guests  smelt,  tasted,  looked  at  one  another,  said 
nothing,  till  Latimer's  glass  was  filled.  It  was  toast 
and  water  ;  so  was  the  whole  binn  :  the  bottles  had 
been  opened,  the  wine  drawn  off,  the  simpler  fluid 

Crossing  from  the  Old  Bank  into  Cat  Street,  you 
might  read  in  large  letters  on  the  All  Souls  wall 
"No  Bristol  Riots,"  painted  there  in  1831.  Ten 
years  ago  it  was  still  visible  in  certain  conditions  of 
sunlight.  The  squalid  cottages  in  Cat  Street  had 
not  been  long  pulled  down,  and  the  Radcliffe 
surrounded  with  railings.  By  this  last  adornment 
hangs  a  tale.  The  outer  walls  of  Brasenose  and 
Lincoln  exactly  touch  one  another  in  Brasenose 


Lane ;  you  may  walk  from  the  Brasenose  gate 
opposite  the  Radcliffe  to  Lincoln  gate  in  the  Turl 
without  taking  your  hand  from  the  masonry.  It 
was  in  the  days  when,  after  dinner,  gentlemen 
became  unsteady  in  their  walk;  when  the  joyous 
closing  stave  of  Maginn's  "Ode  to  a  Bottle  of 
Old  Port"— 

"  How  blest  are  the  tipplers  whose  heads  can  outlive 

The  effects  of  four  bottles  of  thee  ; 
But  the  next  dearest  blessing  that  heaven  can  give 
Is  to  stagger  home  muzzy  with  three" — 

was  quoted  with  approval  and  from  experience 
round  many  a  mahogany  tree  ;  and  it  is  easy  to 
understand  how  opportune  to  a  wine-cheered 
veteran  would  be  the  continuous  support  and 
guidance  open  to  him  so  long  as,  like  Pyramus,  he 
should  "draw  near  the  wall."  A  jovial  club,  the 
bibulous  champions  of  either  College,  dined 
mutually  at  Lincoln  or  at  Brasenose  on  a  day  in 
alternate  weeks,  confidingly  hugging  the  wall  as 
they  reeled  home  from  gate  to  gate.  One  night  it 
blew  a  hurricane,  and  as  the  Brasenose  detachment 
threaded  the  opening  of  the  lane  just  under  Bishop 
Heber's  tree,  they  were  met  by  so  furious  a  gust 
that  they  lost  hold  of  the  wall  and  were  blown  into 
the  open.  Struggling  in  the  pitchy  darkness  to 
recover  their  lost  stay,  they  were  brought  up  against 
the  unrailed  Radcliffe.  Joyously  they  resumed  their 
progress  ;  occasional  suspicion  that  the  way  was 
long  floated  through  their  muddy  brains  ;  but  port 
wine,  deranging  reason,  leaves  faith  undisturbed, 
and  on  they  went.  The  night  was  on  the  wane, 
and  at  break  of  day  the  early  coaches  sweeping 


past  beheld  a  procession  of  vinous  seniors,  cap  and 
gown  awry,  slowly  following  their  leader  in  single 
file  round  and  round  the  Radcliffe.  So  the  railings 
arose,  and  repetition  of  the  feat  became  impossible. 
Inside  Brasenose,  in  the  centre  of  the  Quad,  was  a 
curiosity  long  since  removed  :  the  stone  figure  of  a 
man  bestriding  a  prostrate  foe,  and  raising  a  mighty 
jawbone  for  the  death  blow.  "  Cain  and  Abel " 
it  was  called — "  Cain  taking  A-bePs-life,  his  Sunday 
Paper,"  was  the  current  joke ;  and  undergraduates 
after  wines  would  clamber  on  to  the  fratricide's 
shoulder.  Mark  Pattison  relates  how  his  father, 
caught  there  one  night  by  Tutor  Hodson,  answered 
his  angry  challenge  by  a  quotation  from  Aristo- 
phanes, and  so  Apollo  saved  him.  The  Post  Office 
was  in  Queen  Street,  removed  afterwards  to  the 
corner  of  Bear  Lane,  to  be  burned  down  early  one 
Sunday  morning  in  1842.  I  remember  the  intro- 
duction of  the  Fourpenny  Post  in  1839,  followed  by 
the  Penny  Post  in  1840,  with  black  Queen's  head, 
stamped  envelopes  having  silken  threads  let  into 
the  paper,  or  Mulready's  graceful  device. 

Restored  Balliol  and  Trinity,  with  the  unhar- 
monious  appendage  to  New  College  Slipe,  are 
recent  alterations.  In  1839,  the  Martyrs'  Memo- 
rial replaced  a  picturesque  but  tottering  old  house, 
and  the  enlargement  of  St.  Mary  Magdalen's  spoiled 
a  well-proportioned  church.  Jacob  Ley,  the  Vicar, 
used  to  say  that  a  sermon  as  delivered  to  the  right 
or  left  of  a  certain  pillar  near  the  pulpit  was 
absolutely  inaudible  to  worshippers  on  the  corre- 
sponding side  of  it,  so  that  one  discourse  symmetri- 
cally aimed  would  serve  two  Sundays.  The  Taylor 


Buildings  came  a  little  later,  on  the  site  of  a  lofty 
edifice,  once  a  mansion,  afterwards  decayed,  and 
let  out  in  poverty-stricken  tenements.    The  four 
colossal  female  statues  surmounting  its  eastern  side 
were  declared  by  an  imaginative  undergraduate  to 
be  effigies  of  four  ladies  who  lived  hard  by  ;  and 
the  myth  obtained  a  more  than  humorous  accept- 
ance.    In  St.  John's  gardens,  sacred  to  Capability 
Brown,  still  grew  a  crooked  maple  tree  planted  by 
Archbishop  Laud ;  and  the  lines  in  the  portrait  of 
Charles  I.  in  the  library,  inscribing  the   Psalms  of 
David,  were  clearly  legible  with  a  magnifying  glass. 
Houses   were   nowhere   then   numbered,   and    the 
names  of  streets  were  traditional.     Not  till  1838 
was   Coach  and  Horse    Lane  nomenclatured   into 
Merton   Street,    Magpie   Lane    into   Grove   Street, 
Skimmery  Hall  Lane  into  Oriel  Street,  Butcher  Row 
into  Queen  Street,  Pennyfarthing  Lane  into  Pem- 
broke Street,  Fish  Street  into  St.  Aldate's,  Titmouse 
Lane  into  Castle  Street ;  while  Bridge  Street  from 
Magdalen   Bridge  to  East   Gate   was  incorporated 
into  High  Street.     Only  Logic  Lane,  quoted  in  the 
Spectator,  as   commemorating   mediaeval   combats, 
not   always  of  words   alone,  between    Nominalists 
and  Realists,  no  one  was  profane  enough  to  change. 
The  Parks,   so   called   because   the    Parliamentary 
cannon  were  planted  there  in  the  siege  of  Oxford, 
was  a   large   ploughed   field,   divided   by  a   gravel 
walk,  bounded  on  the  west  by  market  gardens,  on 
the  east  by  a  high  broad  hedge,  beyond  which  lay 
the  Cherwell  meadows  ;  a  haven  to  nursemaids  and 
their   charge,   the   daily   constitutional   of   elderly, 
inactive   Dons.    The  earthworks   of  the   siege  are 


marked  in  Loggan.  The  lines  are  clearly  traceable 
to-day  in  Symonds'  field,  and  the  remains  of  a 
bastion  exist  in  a  small  coppice  near  the  Clifton 

When  the  new  Museum  was  opened  two  houses 
sprang  up  just  beyond  its  northern  limit,  inhabited 
by  Commander  Burrows  and  Goldwin  Smith,  hence 
known  as  Pass  and  Class.  They  were  vaunt-couriers 
to  a  tremendous  irruption  ;  to  the  interminable 
streets  of  villadom,  converging  insatiably  protu- 
berant upon  distant  Wolvercot  and  Summertown. 
I  cannot  frame  to  pronounce  them  Oxford  ;  but 
they  suggest  to  me  a  momentous  query.  Nine- 
tenths  of  their  denizens,  I  am  told,  are  married 
Professors,  Tutors,  Fellows;  men  who  formerly 
lived  in  College,  resident  and  celibate  and  pastoral. 
The  sheep  live  there  still ;  who  shepherds  them  ? 
Are  they  successfully  autonomous,  or  controlled  by 
deputy  shepherds  whose  own  the  sheep  are  not, 
or  a  happy  hunting  ground  for  the  grim  wolf  with 
privy  paw  ?  The  old  monastic  Oxford  has  evapo- 
rated into  the  Ewigkeit ;  as  I  pace  the  Norham  Gar- 
dens and  the  Bradmore  Road,  leafy  thoroughfares 
of  the  bewildering  New  Jerusalem,  I  wonder  what 
system  has  supplanted  Zion's,  and  with  what  bear- 
ing on  discipline  and  morals  ?  I  do  not  prejudge 
the  answer :  I  question,  like  Bassanio,  in  pure 
innocence  ;  not  croaking  sinistrous  from  my  Pylian 
ilex.  But  as  the  old  glide  down  the  inevitable 
slope,  their  present  becomes  a  living  over  again  the 
life  which  has  gone  before,  and  the  future  takes  the 
shape  of  a  brief  lengthening  of  the  past.  To  me 
Oxford,  the  venerable  stones  of  which  I  love  as 


Newman  loved  the  fading  willow  leaves  in  Christ- 
church  Meadow,  must  remain  cis-paradisean  Oxford, 
Oxford  southward  of  the  Parks,  Oxford  of  the  Thirties 
and  the  Forties,  the  Oxford  which  in  these  annalistic 
chronicles  I  have  set  myself  to  recover  and  re- 
people.  To  Oxonians  of  to-day  they  will  appeal 
perhaps  with  something  of  prehistoric  dignity ;  it 
may  seem  suitable  that  the  fading  lineaments  of  a 
time  so  different  from  their  own  should  be  portrayed 
by  one,  well-nigh  the  last,  of  those  who  drew  from 
them  the  inspiration  of  his  own  youthful  dreams 
and  fancies  ;  and  some,  at  least,  among  the  young 
Patrocli  who  are  there  beginning  life  will  join 
hands  filially  and  affectionately  across  the  chasm 
of  three  score  and  eighteen  years  with  the  time- 
worn  commemorative  NESTOR  who  must  ere 
long  resign  it. 




By  THOMAS  DUNBAR,  Fellow  of  Brasenose,  and  Keeper  of  the 
Ashmolean  Museum 

(Seep.  12.) 

All  ye,  who  round  the  buttery  hatch 
Eager  await  the  opening  latch 

Our  barrels  to  assail, 
Come,  listen,  while  in  pleasing  gibe 
The  rare  ingredients  I  describe 

Which  float  in  Brasenose  Ale. 

Guiltless  alike  of  malt  and  hop, 
Our  buttery  is  a  druggist's  shop 

Where  quassia's  draughts  prevail ; 
Alum  the  muddy  liquor  clears, 
And  mimic  wormwood's  bitter  tears 

Compose  our  Brasenose  Ale. 

All  ye  who  physic  have  professed, 
Sir  Kit l  and  Poticary  West,2 

Your  practice  gone  bewail ! 
The  burning  mouth,  the  temple's  throb, 
Sick  stomach,  and  convulsive  sob, 

Are  cured  by  Brasenose  Ale. 

1  Sir  Kit — Sir  Christopher  Pegge,  p.  62.         2  Poticary  West,  p,  64. 



As  poisons  other  poisons  kill, 
So,  should  we  with  convivial  skill 

Old  Syms's 1  wine  assail, 
Or  Latimer's  immortal  tun, 
"Herbert"  yclept  or  "  Abingdon," 

We're  cured  by  Brasenose  Ale. 

The  fair  Cheltenia's  opening  salt 
Must  yield  to  our  factitious  malt ; 

What  double  sconce 2  can  fail  ? 
But,  if  you  want  some  tonic  stuff, 
You  readily  will  find  quant :  suff : 

A  gill  of  Brasenose  Ale. 

Mysterious  as  the  Sibyl's  leaves 
The  battels  are  which  each  receives  j 

But,  freshmen,  cease  to  rail ! 
You're  fed  and  physicked ;  in  your  bills 
Each  week  is  vinegar  of  squills, 

Bark,  salts,  and  Brasenose  Ale. 

Oh  that  our  Bursar  would  consent 
To  give  the  bottled  porter  vent, 

Porter  beloved  by  Dale ; 8 
Smuggled  no  more  by  Joey's  3  stealth, 
It  would  improve  the  College  health, 

Well  scoured  by  Brasenose  Ale. 

1  Syms  and  Latimer,  wine  merchants,  p.  293. 

2  A  double  sconce  was  a  fine  for  improprieties  in  Hall ;  the  culprit 
was  compelled  to  drink  a  gallon  of  ale. 

3  Rev.  Joseph  Dale  and  Joseph  Hodgkinson,  Fellows  of  the  College 
addicted  to  Double  X. 


My  muse,  a  half  reluctant  prude, 

In  dudgeon  vile  George  Smith 1  pursued, 

Afraid  his  verse  should  fail ; 
When  next  the  annual  Ode  he  woos, 
May  he  invoke  a  different  Meux, 

'T  improve  our  Brasenose  Ale. 




(Seep.  12.) 

From  the  bright  burning  lands  and  rich  forests  of  Ind, 

See  the  form  of  Caissa  arise ; 
In  the  caverns  of  Brahma  no  longer  confined, 

To  the  shores  of  fair  Europe  she  flies. 

A  figure  so  fair  through  the  region  of  light 

All  natives  with  wonder  survey, 
As  her  varying  mantle  now  darkens  with  night, 

Now  beams  with  the  silver  of  day. 

Let  Whist,  like  the  bat,  from  such  splendour  retire, 
A  splendour  too  strong  for  his  eyes  ; 

The  Trump  and  Odd  Trick  let  dull  Av'rice  admire, 
Entrapped  by  so  paltry  a  prize. 

Can  Finesse  and  the  Ten-Ace  e'er  hope  to  prevail 
When  Reason  opposes  her  weight, 

When  inviolate  Majesty  hangs  in  the  scale, 
And  Castles  yet  tremble  with  fate  ? 

1  He  was  the  College  porter. 


When  the  bosom  of  Beauty  the  throbbing  heart  meets, 

And  Caissa's  the  gay  Valentine, 
What  Chessman,  who'd  tasted  such  amorous  sweets, 

His  Mate  but  with  life  would  resign  ? 

But  'tis  o'er — Terebinth x  the  decision  approves, 
And  Whist  has  contended  in  vain ; 

To  the  Mansion  of  Hades  the  Genius  removes, 
Where  he  gnaws  his  own  counters  in  pain. 

On  Philosophy's  brow  a  new  lustre  unfolds, 

Mild  reason  exults  in  the  birth ; 
His  creation  benign  Father  Tuckwell  beholds, 

And  Steph 2  gives  the  chaplet  to  Mirth. 


(Note  to  page  13.) 

Henry  Matthews  well  deserves  a  notice.  His  father, 
Colonel  Matthews,  was  the  owner  of  a  beautiful  seat  called 
Belmont,  on  the  Wye,  in  Herefordshire,  Colonel  of  Militia 
and  long  M.P.  for  the  county ;  a  sapling  planted  by  him 
in  1788  is  still  called  Colonel  Matthews'  oak.  In  his  old 
age  Henry  was  wont  to  attend  on  him  to  bed  each  night, 
where  as  his  head  settled  into  the  pillow  he  repeated  always 
in  his  Herefordshire  dialect  the  same  complacent  formula, 
"  I  tell  yer — 'Enery — I  thinks — the  most  comfortablest 
place  in  the  world  is  bed — fur — there  ye  forgets  all  yer 
cares."  One  of  the  sons,  Charles  Skynner  Matthews,  was 
the  intimate  Cambridge  friend  of  Byron  (Life  by  Moore, 

1  "  Terebinth "  was  a  nickname  for  Lingard  ;  in  a  later  edition  it 
reads  "  The  decision  old  Lingard  approves." 

*  Steph  was  Stephens,  Fellow  and  Vice-Principal  of  Brasenose, 
afterwards  Rector  of  Belgrave,  near  Leicester. 


vol.  i.  p.  125),  and  was  drowned  in  1812.  Another, 
Arthur,  I  knew  well  as  a  Canon  of  Hereford  and  Senior 
Fellow  of  Brasenose ;  Henry  was  the  third.  At  Eton  he 
was  a  reckless  madcap,  driving  tandem  through  the  town, 
and  once  lighting  a  bonfire  on  the  floor  of  Long  Chamber. 
He  became  a  Fellow  of  King's;  his  health  broke  down, 
he  travelled,  publishing  in  1820  his  "Diary  of  an  Invalid," 
which  reached  a  fifth  edition.  In  1821  he  was  appointed 
Advocate  Fiscal  of  Ceylon,  married  Emma  Blount,  of 
Orleton  Manor,  Herefordshire,  and  sailed  for  India ; 
passing  through  Oxford  on  his  way  to  Southampton, 
and  leaving  for  my  father,  who  was  away,  a  touching 
letter  of  farewell,  which  I  possess.  He  became  Judge 
in  1827,  and  died  on  May  2oth,  1828.  His  son  is  the 
present  Lord  Llandaff. 



(Seep.  67.) 

I  insert  the  original  for  the  sake  of  comparison.  Its 
authorship  was  doubted  at  the  time,  and  it  was  assigned 
to  Lord  Byron.  Lady  Stanley,  in  her  "  Early  Married 
Life,"  gives  Miss  Fanshawe's  appropriation  of  it : — "  I 
do  give  it  under  my  hand  and  seal  this  i2th  day  of 
February,  1819,  that  to  the  best  of  my  belief  the  Enigma 
of  the  Letter  H  was  composed,  not  by  the  Right  Honour- 
able George  Lord  Byron,  but  by  me,  Catherine  Maria 

'Twas  in  heaven  pronounced — it  was  muttered  in  hell, 
And  Echo  caught  faintly  the  sound  as  it  fell. 
On  the  confines  of  earth  'twas  permitted  to  rest, 
And  the  depths  of  the  ocean  its  presence  confessed. 


'Twill  be  found  in  the  sphere  when  'tis  riven  asunder, 

Be  seen  in  the  lightning,  and  heard  in  the  thunder ; 

'Twas  allotted  to  man  with  his  earliest  breath, 

Attends  at  his  birth  and  awaits  him  in  death, 

Presides  o'er  his  happiness,  honour,  and  health, 

Is  the  prop  of  his  house,  and  the  end  of  his  wealth. 

In  the  heaps  of  the  miser  'tis  hoarded  with  care, 

But  is  sure  to  be  lost  on  his  prodigal  heir. 

It  begins  every  hope,  every  wish  it  must  bound, 

With    the    husbandman    toils,    and    with    monarchs    is 


Without  it  the  soldier,  the  seaman,  may  roam, 
But  woe  to  the  wretch  who  expels  it  from  home. 
In  the  whispers  of  conscience  its  voice  will  be  found, 
Nor  e'en  in  the  whirlwind  of  passion  is  drowned  : 
It  will  soften  the  heart,  and,  though  deaf  be  the  ear, 
It  will  make  it  acutely  and  instantly  hear. 
Yet  in  shade  let  it  rest  like  a  delicate  flower  : 
Ah  !  breathe  on  it  softly — it  dies  in  an  hour  ! 


(Seep.  87.) 

I,  nimium  dilecta,  vocat  Deus,  I,  bona  nostrae 
Pars  animae ;  mcerens  altera,  disce  sequi. 

Translated  by  Lord  Derby. 

Too  dearly  loved,  thy  God  hath  called  thee ;  go, 
Go,  thou  best  portion  of  this  widowed  heart : 

And  thou,  poor  remnant  lingering  here  in  woe, 
So  learn  to  follow,  as  no  more  to  part. 



,  «r0ietv,  iriveiv,  TraXiv 

6pPp6(f>opov  a>s  ra  TrXeio-ra  Svcr^pflv  Ata, 

3   6  /3lOTO<S  lo-Tl  TW1> 

Translated  :  — 

To  walk,  to  sleep,  to  eat,  to  drink, 

To  cry,  "  How  lovely,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

To  wield  a  six  foot  alpenstock, 

Talk  French,  write  name  in  Grimsel  book, 

To  curse  the  rain's  incessant  pour; 
The  pleasures  these  of  foreign  tour. 


(Seep.  98.) 

Hobbes  was  certainly  Ward  Hunt,  afterwards  First  Lord  of 

the  Admiralty. 
Lindsay ',  the  "Piper,"  was  F.  Johnson  of  Christchurch, 

with  some  touches  of  W.  H.  Da  vies. 
Airlie  was  probably  Deacon  of  Oriel,  who  joined  Clough's 

reading  party  in  the  year  following. 
Arthur  Audley  was  Herbert  Fisher  of  Christchurch,  with, 

say  the  Walronds,  a  touch  of  Theodore  Walrond. 
Philip  Htwson  was  Clough  himself,  with  some  traits  from 

Winder  of  Oriel. 

Adam  was  probably  not  a  portrait,  but  not  unlike  Clough. 
Hope  cannot,  I  fear,  be  now  identified. 



(Seep.  113.) 

i.  Vacant. 

ii.  Robert  Menzies,  University. 
iii.  Edward  Royds,  Brasenose. 
iv.  William  B.  Brewster,  St.  John's. 
v.  George  D.  Bourne,  Oriel. 
vi.  John  C.  Cox,  Trinity. 
vii.  Richard  Loundes,  Christchurch. 
viii.  George  E.  Hughes,  Oriel. 
Coxswain.  Arthur  T.  W.  Shadwell,  Balliol. 


"  Insanientem  navita  Bosphorum" 

—  Tentabo.  HORAT.  Od.  III.,  iv.  30. 


The  origin  of  this  clever  skit  is  given  on  p.  169. 
Its  charm  lies  in  the  dexterous  rendering  into  Homeric 
Greek  of  Oxford  names  and  witticisms. 

TWO  fragments,      Fragmenta   duo,    quse   in   nobilissimo   Codice   apud 

agfe    pS^ent-  Bibliothecam  Bodleianam  evolvendo  nuper  detexi,  re- 
th'e  Bod"eianin  ligi°ms  duxi  non  primo  quoque  tempore  publici  juris 
facere.     Auctoris   nomen   desideratur;  colorem   tamen 
vere  Homericum  habent.    Adjeci  ea  quae  inter  legendum 

1  Where  these  jeux  d'esprit  are  in  a  dead  language  I  have 
appended  a  translation  or  short  paraphrase. 



mihi  occurrebant,  turn  ex  aliis  auctoribus,  turn  e  con- 
jectura  petita  :  sed  perfunctorie  et  currente  calamo 
omnia,  ut  reliquias  vere  aureas  quam  citissime  cum 
eruditis  communicarem. 

Dabam  Oxonii,  Prid.  Cal.  Graec.  cio  .  ID  .  ccc  .  xxxiv. 
Imprimatur,  Wellington,  Cancellarius. 


etSe  Ota  <£#«ri/A/:?poTOV, 
avSpas  aptcrrrjas  Trepl  jSoWopov 
Ilao-as  Se  M^u^as,  Kal  'laova?  e 
Meprwvas  0'  erapovs,  Ka^eSp^v  0'  ocrot  a/i(£tve/jiovTcu, 

T   OIKOVO-     v6 

,  ZvOa  KeXfvBoi 

T',  aet  yevo?  a 
e  Mere^erepovs  epiS 


Sa:r€<$(£  8'  GKarepOev  laovas 

j  Kal  Xei/xaros  aAAos 
,  /zet^wv,  (rrt/Sapwrepo?  Iv 

dpVVfJ>€VOL  'ApOoVplOV  LTTiroSafJLOLO' 

Meprwvos  8'  erapovs,  Kparepwv  a-rt^as  ao-7ricrTao>v, 

^Soryv  aya^os  Kooyx^crev  "EAetos* 
8'  aywv  o#i  IT^AeiSea)  ra^avro  ^xxAayycs. 
BaAAtoAets  S'  Tyyev  6e6(f>w  M^crrwp  ajaAavros, 

3.  'Idopas,  St.  John's.     A/cex^rwvaj,  Zfow.  //.  xiii.  685. 

5.  Fi;0r^>y,  Worcester. 

8.   Mere^eT^/Jous,  Exeter. 
10.  Xet)u,a/>,  Wynter,  President  of  St.  John's. 
12.  <£/»rXeoy,  Wintle,  Senior  Fellow  of  St.  John's. 
15.  "EXeios,  marshy,  Marsham,  Warden  of  Merton, 
1  6.  IfyXefSew,  supporters  of  Peel. 
17.  MTJO-TW/),  the  Master. 


M^o-rcop,  os  /xi/c/)bs  /xev  erjv  8e/xas,  dAAa  /xa^T^s' 

owo/xa  8'  Icr^ev  a/xcr/oov,  d^ea^a-rov,  ovS'  dvo/xaoToV 

T<£  8'  ap  eirovO'  eKarbv  Kat  TTCVTC  /xeAatvo^irwves.  20 

Dr.     Fox     leads        'AAX*   OiOlO'tl'  CCl/aCTCr'  ap%7]y€Tl<S  €<TTt  ^lAlTJTnj 
Queen's.  ,~      ,-  /,        „  .  /»       v,         v      «,    t     v         , 

TOtOrtO€  <Po£oS  €T]V  K€(pdA.Y)  '  6KO.TOV  6    V7TO  TOVTO) 

•i^yowes  KocrprjOev  fS'  oySwKovra  Bopeiot. 
Dr.  Bridges  leads      'AAX"  au  vw,  vatovo-tv  oVoi  Tpta  KdwTTra  KaKLcrra, 

vjpus  ^yejaovev'  eiSws  iroXepOLo  Fe^v/oas,  25 

dySca/covr'  apiO^  KCU  aTravras  <^>ato)(tT(uvas, 
JAAX'  otrot  ets  KaOeSpyv  Trcpl  ~B6cnropov  rj 
(fj,a.KpY)v  a/x^)t€7rovT€9  ara^TrtTov,  ov  TO, 

Dean     Gaisford,   XappeXov  rjS  'IcrtS  (TV/X/^aA 
wielding     two    ,,^/v  »>J\P>         /  o,)>>t/ 

mighty  lexica,   17   OtTTvAcOTOS  tt/5     €OTTl,   Ot^KOCTtOt  0     ttV     €KaCTTf]V 
leads      Christ-   «  jt  ^\\' 

church.  ave/)€s  €^otxi/€1)<rt  AiAcuojtzevoi 

,  os    a/xi'^trt  trrt^as 
oiTrep  ov  Bvo  y*  avSpe  IScc 
rAatev  aTap/xvKTOicrt  TrpocrwTracri,  cr^juaTa  Avy/oa  35 

otot  vvv  PporoL  ti(T>  ,  6  8e  /xtv  pea  TraAAe  /cat  oTos. 

Dr.  Macbride         Ot  8*  ATTO/xaySaAta?  K\€Lvfj  SdlVVVTai  €V  'AvA^, 

len  &  ^ots  /xeya  or^/xaivwv  apa/3r](rev  6  IIa/>0evo7ratos' 
T^>  8'  a/>a  7T€vnJKOv0J  eurovro  /xcAatvoxiTcovcs. 

^^vea  8'  dvOputTTiav  ^aA/cevrepa,  ^aAKOTrpdcrwTra,          40 
Dr.  Gilbert  leads  8ioyevr)s  FtA/^/JTos  ayev  TroAAot  8'  V 

Brasenose.  t\/  r>         \/^>/  v/i  \v/» 

OTrAiras  pao-tA^es  €Koa-/xeov  evfla  Kat  evt^a- 

1  8.   otfvoiJ.a  K.  r.  X.,  the  uncouth  name  Jenkyns. 

21.  $i\iinrr],  Queen  Philippa,  Foundress  of  Queen's. 

22.  $6£os,  Fox,  Provost  of  Queen's. 

23.  Bopeioi,  the  Scholars  and  Fellows  of  Queen's,  mostly  from 
northern  counties. 

24.  Tpia  KdTTTra,  C.  C.  C.,  Corpus,  KdKHrra,  referring  to  a  proverb 
—  the  three  bad  C's  —  Cappadocians,  Cicilians,  Cretans. 

25.  ye<j>vpa$,  Bridges,  President  of  Corpus. 

33.  Xe£t*&,  Suidas  and  Etymologicon  Magnum. 
35.  &Tapfj,vKToi<n,  unwinking. 

38.  napflej/oTratos,    Macbride.    &pdpi)<rev—  he    was    Professor    of 

41.  JTiX/Seprds,  Gilbert,  Head  of  Brasenose, 


ots  ^)€/oeTat  XaAKOvs  SetVoto  TreAw/oov, 
(oSJjua  J3p6roi<s  €/>iSo 
6p&b<s  CTT'  £yxe"?S>  Tre/n 
T(3vSe  St^Koo-tot  TroAe/xoVSe  /cat  etKoo~t  /3atvoi>. 

SveuSet  8'  €L7r6fJL€v 
CTTT'  «rav  oy/xowv  SeKaScs,  8ta  <^V 
Ilacrwi/  IK  ^v^wi/  l^BiporaTOL  KOL  apterrot, 

JE/<  8e  KaTr^Xetov  Kpa/x^/otos  5/oro  Neoto, 
U  Kat  avrb  yAwcrcr7^s  /xeXtros  yAvKtwv  peei/  avS?) 
Trtpvcri  Srjfioio  TravyyvptL  a,K/oiTOjav#<£). 
eryv  8'  era/awv,  Tra/Gpos  T€  ot  IcrTrero 
Tovs  8e  MeTe^eTepovs  6  MaptAat8i^s  ay*  ' 
f3X.ocrvpoi<Ti  TT/oocrwTraatv  ITTTTOKO^O 

'  o?  X^^  ^^  BOCTTTO/OOV  a 
e'x€l/5  'H^aKrrov  Texvaoyxara,  ^ecrKeAa  e^oya, 
Jiv  r/36a  /xev  x/3^0"^)  T/ota  8'  apyvpo^Aa  T€TVKTO, 
8wKe  Se  Boo"7ro/otots  /3acriAe{i(rtv  6  KvAAoTroSt'wv 
TToAAotcrt  v^eo-a-t  Kat  ao-ret  Travrt  avacrcreii/. 
TOVS  jw-ev  ayev  7roAe/xov8''  aAAovs  8'  OI'KOI 
retxea  (frpovpovvras  Kat  CTraA^tas 
ij/xtcru  yap  TCTeAecrro,  TO  8'  rjfjucrv  yv/xvov  €\€L<f>@r]. 


Mr.  Sneyd  lea 
All  Souls. 

Dr.  Cramer  lef 
New  Inn  H: 

Dr.  Collier  Joi 
leads     Exet 
five  "  Pokei 



43.  My/cTTjp  XaXxoGs  7re\c6/)ou,  the  brazen  nose  over  the  gate. 

47.  Sveu5#,  Sneyd,  Warden  of  All  Souls,  noted  for  his  long 
neck  and  corresponding  white  tie. 

51.  Kpa/w^ptos,  Cramer,  Principal  of  New  Inn  Hall. 

55.  M.api\at8tjs  'Iw^ei)s,  Collier  Jones,  Rector  of  Exeter. 

58.  ffXijirrpa,  the  bedel's  staves  ;  he  was  Vice-  Chancellor. 

60.  Ki/XXo7ro5W,  lame-foot,  Vulcan. 

64.  Buildings  must  have  been  going  on  at  Exeter,  probably  the 
Turl  front. 

The  following  lines  about  Shuttle  worth  were  appar- 
ently never  printed,  but  handed  round  in  writing  with 
copies  of  the  printed  piece. 

'Av8/DWi/  8'  OVK  ^ 


Dr.  Shutt! 
worth  (p.  i( 
with  his  < 
on  a  bishop: 
stands  apart 



(Seep.  1450 

O'er  Oxford's  halls  the  dewy  hand  of  night 

Sows  the  still  heavens  with  gems  of  lustrous  light, 

Earth  sinks  to  rest,  and  earthly  passions  cease, 

And  all  is  love,  and  poesy,  and  peace. 

How  soft  o'er  Wykeham's  aisle  and  Waynflete's  tower 

Falls  the  mild  magic  of  the  midnight  hour ; 

How  calm  the  classic  city  takes  her  rest, 

Like  a  hushed  infant  on  its  mother's  breast ! 

How  pure,  how  sweet,  the  moonbeam's  silver  smile 

Serenely  sleeps  on  fair  St.  Mary's  aisle, 

And  lends  each  sculptured  saint  a  chastened  glow, 

Like  the  calm  glory  of  their  lives  below. 

Now,  stilled  the  various  labours  of  the  day, 

Student  and  Don  the  drowsy  charm  obey, 

E'en  Pusey  owns  the  soft  approach  of  sleep, 

Long  as  his  sermons,  as  his  learning  deep  : 

Peaceful  he  rests  from  Hebraistic  lore, 

And  finds  that  calm  he  gave  so  oft  before. 

Lo  !  where  on  peaceful  Pembroke  beams  the  moon, 

Delusive  visions  lull  the  brains  of  Jeune ; 

Slowly  he  finds  in  sleep's  serene  surprise 

The  mitred  honours  which  the  world  denies ; 

Dreams  of  a  see  from  earthly  care  withdrawn, 

And  one  long  sabbath  of  eternal  lawn. 

[Lacuna  valde  deflenda,  sed  ne  in  antiquissimo  quidem 
codice  suppleta.] 

1  Composed  by  W.  W.  Merry,  Alfred  Blomfield,  Charles  Bo  wen, 
and  J.  W.  Shephard,  all  of  Balliol. 

Given  to  Mr.  Madan  in  1885  by  J.  R.  King  of  Oriel,  who  was 
present  at  the  composition,  and  himself  contributed  a  few  words.  To 
Mr.  Madan's  kindness  I  owe  this  copy,  and  other  valuable  help. 


See  fresh  from  Eton  sent,  the  highborn  dunce, 
So  late  a  boy,  now  grown  a  man  at  once  : 
Proud,  he  asserts  his  new-found  liberty, 
And  slopes  in  triumph  down  the  astonished  High. 
Mark  the  stiff  wall  of  collar  at  his  neck, 
More  fit  to  choke  the  wearer  than  to  deck ; 
And  the  long  coat  which,  dangling  at  his  heels,1 
His  "  bags  "  of  varied  colour  scarce  reveals. 
So,  when  the  infant  hails  the  birthday  grant 
Of  gracious  grandmother  or  awful  aunt, 
Forth  from  the  ark  of  childhood,  one  by  one, 
The  peagreen  patriarch  leads  each  stalwart  son ; 
O'er  Noah's  knees  descends  the  garment's  hem, 
And  clothes  in  solid  folds  the  shins  of  Shem, 
His  ligneous  legs  in  modesty  conceals, 
And  two  stout  stumps  alone  to  view  reveals. 
Pleased  with  the  sight,  the  infant  screams  no  more, 
And  groups  his  great  forefathers  on  the  floor ; 
Sucks  piety  and  paint  from  broad-brimmed  Ham, 
But  thinks  that  even  Japhet  yields  to  jam. 



(Seep.  153.) 

'A  Motpa  a  Kpvepa  TW  KaAu)  7rai6°  ' 

TJpTra&e'  TWV  KaXwv  TIS  KOpos  €<r@'  " 
"AAXa  (TV  y  'AyyeXta,  roy  arjSea  pvdov 

1  The  long  ulster-like  coats  which  came  in  just  then  (in  1856)  are 
alluded  to. 


Ae£oi/  8',  <o  SCU/AOV,  rav  KaXav  wA,«ras  aypav, 

ov  yap  ras  ^xas,  or8e  ra 
At  ju,€i/  yap  \{/v)(ai  //.eTe/^crai 

crco/mra  8'  ev  ycup  v^y/oerov  virvov  e 

May  be  thus  translated,  faithfully,  not  adequately  : 

Love's  fairest  twins  cold  Fate  has  rapt  from  earth  : 

Death  craves  each  loveliest  birth. 
Go,  thou,  whose  lore  insculps  the  unpleasing  word, 

Go  to  the  dark-realmed  Lord. 
Forbid  him  triumph  ;  —  his  the  power  to  slay, 

Not  his  to  hold  the  prey. 
Their  forms  unwaking  sleep  beneath  the  sod, 

Their  souls  rest  aye  with  God. 

I  transcribe  from  a  copy  given  to  me  at  the  time 
of  its  composition.  In  the  "Anthologia  Oxonensis"  is  an 
altered  reading  of  line  4,  BCUTK',  ?0i,  irayKotrav  ets  'AtSao 
8o/x,ov,  probably  the  latest  correction  of  the  author.  Both 
epithets  are  finely  classical  —  jmeXavTeix*}  Pindaric,  TrayKoirav 
Sophoclean.  I  append  a  translation,  the  best  I  can 
render  :  it  is  quite  inadequate  as  transmitting  the  old- 
world  feeling  of  the  original,  but  it  is  nearly  literal. 
'AyyeXia,  line  3,  I  have  taken  to  mean  the  sad  message 
of  death  inscribed  in  the  sculptured  forms.  The  Dean 
of  Durham  thinks  that  the  somewhat  tame  last  line  (last 
but  one  in  the  translation)  shows  inability  on  Gordon's 
part  to  "get  in"  the  thought  he  had  —  "the  souls  rest  in 
heaven,  the  bodies  are  immortalised  in  stone." 





(See  p.  154,  in  which  the  poem  is  paraphrased?) 

Quern  Virum  aut  Heroa  lyra  vel  acri 
Tibia  sumis  celebrare,  Clio  ? 
Scilicet  quern  te  voluere  Patres 

Te  decet  jussum  properare  carmen, 
Ficta  nam  Phoebus  patitur,  tuisque 
Laudis  indignse  fidibus  canoris 
Dedecus  aufert. 

Jamque  dicatur  gravis  et  decorus, 
Et  sibi  constans  memoretur  idem, 
Ille,  qui  multis  superare  possit 
Protea  formis. 

Quin  et  insignem  paribus  catervam 
Laudibus  tollas,  quibus,  heu  fatendum, 
Ista  de  nobis  hodie  paratur 

Pompa  triumphi. 

Plura  si  tangas,  tacuisse  velles  ; 
Vix  enim  linguae  tulit  eloquentis 
Praemium,  verbis  relevare  doctus 
Praemia  magnis. 

1  By  Osborne   Gordon ;    on  the  Installation  of   Lord   Derby  as 


Nee  magis  palmam  meruit  decoram 
Ssevus  in  mitem,  nimiumque  vincens 
Dulce  ridentem  Samuelis  iram 
Voce  cruenta.1 

His  tamen  constat  decus  omne  nostri, 
Hie  Duci  magno  Comes  advocatur, 
Talibus  flentes  premimus  tropaeis 
Grande  sepulchrum. 

Deditis  ergo  gravis  ille  nobis 
Partium  tristem  trahit  hue  ruinam, 
Et  rates  obstat  reparare  quassas 
Isidis  unda. 

Gaudeant  istis  pueri  et  puellae  : 
Mente  diversa  notat,  et  Theatri 
Excipit  vani  sonitum  maligno 
Patria  risu. 

1  This  refers  to  a  passage  between  Lord  Derby  and  Samuel,  Bishop 
of  Oxford,  during  a  debate  on  the  Canada  Clergy  Reserves  in  the 
House  of  Lords.  The  Bishop  advocated  their  surrender;  "Fiat 
justitia,  ruat  cselum,"  he  said.  Provoked  by  his  arguments,  and  by 
the  aggravating  smile  with  which  he  met  his  own  indignant  attack, 
Lord  Derby  quoted  the  line  from  Hamlet,  "  A  man  may  smile,  and 
smile,  and  be  a  villain  "  (see  p.  154). 



(Seep.  155.) 

IN  A  CONGREGATION  to  be  holden  on  Saturday,  the  31st 
instant,  at  Two  o' Clock,  the  following  form  of  Statute  will  be 



Nov.  3, 1860. 

Placuit  Universitati  2009. 

In  Epitaphio  Thunni  in  Musaeo  Academico  depositi  haec  verba 












abrogare,  et  in  eorum  locum  quse  secjuuntur  subrogare : — 











(Seep.  169.) 

Once  upon  a  time,  so  goes  the  tale, 

The  driver  of  a  country  mail, 

One  Phoebus,  had  a  hare-brained  son, 

Called  from  his  uncle  Phaethon. 

This  boy,  quite  spoilt  with  over  care 

As  many  other  children  are, 

All  day,  it  seems,  would  cry  and  sputter 

For  gingerbread  or  toast  and  butter ; 

And  sure  no  father  would  deny 

Such  trifles  to  so  sweet  a  boy. 

But  that  which  rules  all  earthly  things 

And  coachmen  warms  as  well  as  kings, 

Ambition,  soon  began  to  reign 

Sole  tyrant  in  this  youngster's  brain ; 

And,  as  we  find  in  every  state 

The  low  will  emulate  the  great, 

As  ofttimes  servants  drink  and  game 

Because  their  lords  have  done  the  same, 

The  boy,  now  hardly  turned  of  ten, 

Would  fain  be  imitating  men ; 

Till  what,  at  last,  must  youngster  do, 

But  drive  the  mail  a  day  or  two. 

In  vain  with  all  a  father's  care 

Old  Phoebus  tries  to  soothe  his  heir, 

In  vain  the  arduous  task  explains 

To  ply  the  lash  and  guide  the  reins, 

Tells  him  the  roads  are  deep  and  miry, 

Old  Dobbin's  blind  and  Pyeball  fiery ; 


At  length  he  yields,  though  somewhat  loath, 

And  seals  his  promise  with  an  oath ; 

The  oath  re-echoing  as  he  sware 

Like  thunder  shook  his  elbow  chair, 

Made  every  rafter  tremble  o'er  him, 

And  spilt  the  ale  that  stood  before  him. 

All  then  prepared  in  order  due, 

The  coach 'brought  out,  the  horses  too, 

Glad  Phaethon  with  youthful  heat 

Climbs  up  the  box  and  takes  his  seat, 

And,  scarce  each  passenger  got  in, 

Drives  boldly  off  through  thick  and  thin. 

Now  whether  he  got  on  as  well 

The  sequel  of  my  tale  will  tell : 

Scarce  gone  a  mile  the  horses  find 

Their  wonted  driver  left  behind  : 

For  horses,  poets  all  agree, 

Have  common  sense  as  well  as  we : 

Nay,  Homer  tells  us  they  can  speak 

Not  only  common  sense,  but  Greek. 

In  vain  our  hero,  half  afraid, 

Calls  all  his  learning  to  his  aid, 

And  runs  his  Houyhnhnm  jargon  through 

Just  as  he'd  heard  his  father  do — 

As  "  Gently  Dobbin,  Pyeball  stay, 

Keep  back  there  Bobtail,  softly,  way  ! " 

The  more  he  raved  and  bawled  and  swore, 

They  pranced  and  kicked  and  run  the  more 

Till,  driver  and  themselves  to  cool, 

They  lodged  all  safely  in  a  pool. 

Hence  then,  ye  highborn  bards,  beware, 

Nor  spin  your  Pegasus  too  far, 

From  Phaethon's  mischance  be  humble, 

Go  gently — or  the  jade  will  stumble. 


Winchester  College,  1800. 



(Seep.  175.) 

This  is  said  to  have  been  repeated  impromptu  by  Foote 
in  order  to  puzzle  Macklin,  who  boasted  that  he  could 
re-word  any  tale  after  once  hearing  it : — 

"The  baker's  wife  went  into  the  garden  for  a  cabbage 
leaf  to  make  an  apple  pie.  A  great  she  bear  walking  down 
the  street  put  its  head  into  the  shop :  '  What,  no  soap  ? ' 
So  he  died,  and  she  very  imprudently  married  the  barber. 
And  there  were  present  at  the  wedding  the  Piccalillies, 
the  Joblillies,  the  Gargulies,  and  the  great  Panjandrum 
himself  with  the  little  round  button  on  the  top ;  and 
they  all  played  at  Catch-who-catch-can  till  the  gunpowder 
ran  out  of  the  heels  of  their  boots." 


(Seep.  194.) 

Hie  tandem  invitus  requiescit 

Qui  vulgo 


Amicorum  dum  vivebat  Delicise, 





Flagrum  Indefessum,  Acerrimum. 

In  Clericorum  Convocatione 

Facundissimus,  Facetissimus. 

In  Baronibus 


Seu  humanis  et  Hagleiocolis 
Sive  bovinis 

In  Feriis  Autumnalibus  apud  East  Brent 
In  denegando 

De  Ecclesia,  De  Republica, 

De  omnibus  rebus  et  quibusdam  aliis, 

In  piscium  venatione, 

Nulli  secundus. 

Se  ipso  judice, 

Erroris  Expers, 

Per  Vices  Rerum  Quantaslibet 
Immutatus  et  Immutabilis. 


LYTTELTON  Baro  fecit.  Jan.,  1868. 

A.D.  1910. 

Here  rests  at  last  against  his  will 

G.  A.  D., 

Known  commonly  as  George-without-the-drag-on. 

In  life  the  delight  of  his  friends  ; 

Of  Whigs,  Radicals,  Gladstonians, 

The  unwearied  scourge. 

Eloquent  in  Convocation, 

Unrivalled  in  social  charm, 

Keen  Angler,  universal  Gainsayer, 

In  his  own  opinion  faultless, 
Unchangeable  amid  surrounding  change. 



,ngel  ?  No,  Ape. 

limbimg  to  the 
tree-top,  and 
flinging  the 
fruit  at  his 

fith  feigned 
gravity  emit- 
ting claptrap. 

'ith  feigned 
sorrow  beat- 
ing a  gorrilla 

ie  religions  and 
devout?  tell  it 
to  his  brother 
Jew,  Apelles. 


(Note  i,  p.  199.) 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Oxford  Diocesan  Society  in  the 
Theatre,  November  25th,  1864,  Bishop  Wilberforce 
presiding,  Mr.  Disraeli  said  :  "  What  is  the  question  now 
placed  before  society  with  a  glib  assurance  the  most 
astounding  ?  The  question  is  this — Is  man  an  ape  or  an 
angel  ?  My  lord,  I  am  on  the  side  of  the  angels." 

Angelo  quis  te  similem  putaret 
Esse,  vel  divis  atavis  creatum, 
Cum  tuas  plane  referat  dolosus 
Simius  artes  ? 

Sive  cum  palma  latitans  in  alta, 
Dente  quos  frustra  tetigit  superbo 
Dejicit  fructus,  nuceam  procellam, 
Tutus  in  hostem ; 

Sive  cum  fictse  gravitatis  ore 
Comico  torquet  dehonesta  rictu 
Turba  quod  risu,  nimium  jocosa, 
Plaudat  inepto. 

Sive  (quod  monstrum  tua  novit  aetas), 
Cum  furens  intus  rabie,  feroque 
Imminens  bello,  similis  dolenti 
Pectora  plangit. 

Scilicet  verae  pietatis  ardor 
Non  tulit  pressis  cohibere  labris 
Fervidam  vocem — tuus  ille  forsan 
Credat  Apella. 


Credidit  certe  plus  ille  noster  Our      "  Sam " 

,             ,  ,.  feigns     belief, 

Ore  qui  blando  data  verba  reddit,  but  his  tongue 

,.T              •              *  •     ',         •  is  in  his  saintly 

Non  pnus  nobis  ita  visus  esse  cheek. 
Credulus  Oxon. 


Facsimile  of  letter  to  Charles.  Girdlestone  ("Com- 
mentary" Girdlestone  he  was  called),  accompanying  a 
copy  of  the  "Suggestions  for  an  Association,"  written  by 
Palmer  of  Worcester,  revised  by  Newman,  and  cor- 
rected by  Ogilvie.  Girdlestone,  whose  answer  follows,  was 
a  leading  Evangelical,  and  had  recommended  Newman 
as  a  kindred  spirit  to  his  first  curacy  at  St.  Clement's. 
These  two  letters  are  not  published  in  Mr.  Mozley's  book. 
They  illustrate :  (i)  The  wide  extent  of  Newman's  initial 
propaganda,  amongst  extreme  Low  Churchmen  no  less  than 
in  directions  not  inevitably  hostile  to  the  movement ;  (2) 
the  confident,  excited  temper,  and  defiant  objurgatory 
language  with  which  he  embarked  on  his  crusade ;  (3)  the 
deep  instinct  of  opposition  felt  from  the  first  by  weighty 
theologians  of  the  Clapham  School,  spreading  and  in- 
creasing as  the  Tracts  went  on,  though  not  culminating  till 
the  publication  of  Tract  90. 




6th  Nov.  1833. 

DEAR  NEWMAN, — It  gives  me  very  great  pain  indeed  to 
differ  so  widely  as  I  fear  I  do  from  you  in  the  matter  to 
which  your  printed  circular  and  written  letter  refer.  Nor 
do  I  like  to  say  no  to  your  application  without  assigning 
one  or  two  of  the  reasons  which  chiefly  weigh  with  me. 

1.  Your  objects  are  indistinctly  denned.     "Maintain  in- 
violate" looks  very  like  to  an  Anti- Church- reform  Society; 
though  your  definition  goes  no  further  than  I  should  gladly 
go  with  you,  being  extremely  averse  to  any  change  which 
"  involves  the  denial  or  suppression  of  doctrine "  (sound 
doctrine  I  conclude  you  mean)  or  "a  departure,"  &c.,  &c. 
I  honestly  assure  you  I  could  not  be  certain  whether  it  is 
your  intent  to  promote  any  change  at  all,  though  I  guess 
from  the  tenor  of  the  whole  paper  that  almost  any  change 
would  be  counted  innovation. 

2.  Besides  this  indistinctness  as  to  your  principles,  I  am 
at  a  loss  to  understand  in  what  way  they  are  to  be  prac- 
tically applied  :  whether  the  publication  of  a  periodical,  the 
influencing   elections   for   M.P.'s,    the    putting   yourselves 
under  the  direction  of  a  committee  in  all  matters  connected 
with  your  first  object,  or  the  mere  circulation  of  tracts. 

3.  I  cannot  approve  of  the  feeling  which  pervades  your 
document,  nor  assent  to  the  presumed  data  on  which  it 
proceeds.     The  spirit  of  the  times  does  not  appear  to  me 
in  the  same  light  as  it  does  to  you.     And,  the  worse  it  is,  I 
am  the  more  desirous  that  in  the  Church  at  least  a  good 
spirit  should  be  cultivated.     Now,  this  whole  paper  breathes 
a  censorious,   querulous,   discontented   spirit,  a   spirit   of 
defiance,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken,  to  the  party  predomi- 
nant at  present  in  the  State,  a  spirit  which  is  the  most  likely 


of  all  others  to  bring  the  Church  into  contempt  with  that 
party,  and,  what  is  worse,  a  spirit  which  is  thoroughly 
opposite  to  the  Christian  rule  of  overcoming  evil  with  good. 

I  have  written  the  more  freely  because  I  cannot  but 
think  it  new  and  strange  to  you  to  write  as  you  have 
written  about  the  Parliament,  &c.,  and  I  hope  you  may  be 
disposed  to  weigh  the  grounds  on  which  I  have  come  to 
conclusions  so  opposite  to  yours.  I  regard  the  men  at 
present  in  power  as  no  worse  Christians  than  their  pre- 
decessors, counting  no  doctrine  worse  than  that  which 
sacrifices  the  morality  of  the  people  on  the  shrine  of  finance 
and  expediency.  (See  Beer  bill,  appointment  of  Philpotts 
to  be  Bishop,  defence  of  the  venality  of  votes  in  elections, 
multiplication  of  oaths  at  Custom  House,  &c.,  &c.)  I 
count  them  to  be  entitled  to  our  respect  because  they  are 
in  power;  and,  without  being  as  I  trust  a  Vicar  of  Bray,  I 
cannot  comprehend  how  you  reconcile  the  names  you  call 
the  Parliament  with  the  prayer  you  daily  use  for  its  pros- 
perity. The  many  grievous  faults  which  as  a  Christian  I 
cannot  help  seeing  in  many  of  their  measures  (not  more 
than  in  those  of  their  predecessors)  make  me  the  more 
anxious  to  conciliate  their  affection  to  the  Church,  and 
through  the  Church  to  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  by 
manifesting  in  our  politico-ecclesiastical  conduct  that  zeal 
against  abuses,  that  self-denial,  humility,  and  charity,  which 
we  preach  up  in  private  life. 

And,  lastly,  I  have  hope  that  much  good  will  come  of 
their  schemes  for  Church  reform,  even  if  ill  meant  by  them 
(which  I  trust  they  were  not),  for  I  count  as  the  greatest 
enemies  of  the  Church,  even  those  to  whom  her  present 
perils  will  hereafter  be  ascribed,  the  men  who  have  winked 
at  every  scandalous  abuse  and  resisted  every  attempt  at 
reasonable  amendment.1  There  now  !  I  take  out  the  word 
"reform,"  for  fear  you  should  dislike  it,  though  the  root 
was  thought  a  good  one  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation. 
But  call  it  amendment.  Who  for  a  word  would  quarrel  with 
1  Altered  from  "  moderate  reform," 


a  friend  ?  Not  I,  if  I  could  help  it.  And  earnestly  I  hope 
that  you  will  not  quarrel  with  me  for  this  letter.  I  do  not 
think  you  will,  or  I  should  scarcely  have  said  so  much. 
Yet  some  whom  I  used  to  know  well,  and  still  love  as  well 
as  ever,  look  now  askance  when  they  meet  me  in  their  path, 
for  no  other  reason  that  I  know  of  than  that  I  thought  ten 
pound  voters  better  than  close  boroughs,  and  have  also 
publicly  maintained  that  a  Dissenter  may  get  to  Heaven, 
and  ought  to  be  treated  as  a  brother  Christian  whilst  on 
earth.  Do,  dear  Newman,  well  consider  where  you  are 
going  in  this  business,  and  do  not,  as  you  threaten,  march 
past  me,  unless  you  are  quite  sure  that  you  will  not  here- 
after wish  to  march  back  again. 

Many  thanks  for  your  help  in  searching  for  an  incumbent 
for  my  church  at  Sedgley.  I  have  as  yet  made  no  appoint- 
ment. It  is  by  the  conscientious  discharge  of  our  duties 
in  our  cures,  by  the  due  disposal  of  our  patronage,  and  by 
the  exercise  of  self-denial  in  preferment  offered  to  ourselves, 
that  I  hope  we  may  silence  the  gainsayers,  or,  if  not,  yet 
justify  the  Church.  I  would  gladly  enter  into  an  associa- 
tion for  these  objects,  if  we  were  not  by  our  vows  as 
ministers  and  as  Christians  already  members  of  just  such 
a  society.  Ever  Yours,  C.  GIRDLESTONE. 

Rev.  J.  H.  NEWMAN,  Oriel  College. 



(See p.  267.) 

Late  in  the  Summer  Term  of  1849  we  noticed  lying  in 
Vincent's  and  Macpherson's  windows  a  slim  anonymous 
pamphlet  labelled  "  Grand  University  Logic  Stakes."  It  was 
one  of  the  two  most  brilliant  topical  jeux  d1  esprit  which  the 


century  produced  in  Oxford,  the  other  being  Jackson  and 
Sinclair's  Uniomachia  of  1833.  It  described  a  recent  con- 
test for  the  Praelectorship  of  Logic,  which,  founded  in 
1839,  nad  been  held  during  ten  years  by  Richard  Michell, 
and  was  to  be  rilled  again  by  election  to  a  second  decennial 
occupancy.  It  was  written,  unavowedly,  by  Landon,  Fel- 
low of  Magdalen,  and  Examiner  in  the  Great-Go  Schools : 
its  felicitous  personal  characterisations  of  men  notable  then 
and  since  were  heightened  by  their  dexterous  adaptation  to 
the  language  of  the  Turf;  for  Landon,  a  Yorkshireman 
born,  was,  like  Henry  Blount  in  "  Marmion,"  a  sworn  horse- 
courser,  and  an  adept  in  stable  slang.  The  skit  is  now 
extremely  scarce,  and  the  rust  of  time  has  settled  on  the 
original  polish  of  its  allusive  wit  and  fun ;  but,  as  having 
been  coeval  and  conversant  with  its  actors,  I  have  ap- 
pended a  Notularum  Spicilegium. 

It  unfolds  and  advertises  the 

"  GRAND  UNIVERSITY  LOGIC  STAKES  of  250  sovs.,  for 
Horses  of  all  ages  above  three  years,  without  restriction 
as  to  weight  or  breeding.  Ten-mile  course.  Gentlemen 
riders.  Second  Decennial  Meeting  to  come  off  June  14, 

"  The  following  are  the  entrances  up  to  present  date  : — 

1.  Mr.  Bailly  Jenks's  b.  c.  Barbadoes,  17  yrs.    .     .     .  B.  Jowett. 

2.  Mr.  St.  John's  bl.  c.  Mainsail,  6  yrs Higgs. 

3.  Lord  Oriel's  ch.  c.  Christmas,  8  yrs Buggon. 

4.  Her  Majesty's  br.  c.  Tom  Towzer,  16  yrs.     .     .     .  Barrott. 

This  great  and  important  race,  which  afforded  so  much 
sport  to  the  academical  world  in  1839,  is  now  on  the 
eve  of  being  contested  for  the  second  time  since  its 
institution  by  that  sporting  chief,  the  illustrious  Gilbert. 
The  stakes  are  raised  by  capping  the  junior  members  of 
the  University  to  the  amount  of  sixpence  a  head,  which 
yields  a  fund  of  nearly  250  sovs.,  liable  to  a  heavy  de- 


duction  for  expense  of  collection,  which  may,  however, 
possibly  be  reduced  to  a  more  reasonable  percentage. 

"  Previously  to  entering  on  the  merits  of  the  competition, 
it  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  take  a  brief  survey  of  the 
subsequent  history  and  performances  of  the  horses  en- 
gaged in  the  memorable  struggle  of  1839.  For  that 
race,  it  may  be  remembered,  eight  horses  were  entered: 
St.  Michael,  Gruel,  The  White  Horse  Bob,  Lancastrian, 
Reformation,  Barrister,  Stockbroker,  and  Barbadoes. 

"  St.  Michael,  the  winner  on  that  occasion,  has  proved 
by  his  late  successes  that  his  merits  had  not  been  over- 
rated, and  it  may  be  mentioned,  as  a  proof  of  the  steady 
confidence  of  his  admirers,  that  he  has  been  a  prime 
Favourite  as  well  as  a  successful  runner  for  the  different 
races  he  has  since  contested.  He  won  the  Rhetorical 
Sweeps  in  a  common  canter;  and  as  far  as  credit  was 
to  be  derived  from  such  an  event,  put  in  a  most  re- 
spectable appearance  for  the  Bampton  Stakes,  which  is 
generally  a  slow  race  for  aged  horses  and  heavy  weights, 
rarely  accomplished  under  the  hour ;  the  nominations  being 
often  confined  to  somewhat  inferior  cattle.  St.  Michael 
has  lately  been  purchased  by  an  elderly  gentleman  at  a 
very  high  figure.  He  is  located  in  a  very  snug  stable, 
and  is  already  the  sire  of  some  very  promising  stock. 

"  Gruel  continues  to  make  a  show  in  the  world,  and 
stands  high  in  public  estimation.  He  has  taken  to  a 
novel  line,  in  which  he  has  come  out  rather  strong. 
He  appears  to  have  left  the  Turf  altogether  for  the 
present.  After  a  long  season  in  Ireland,  where,  not- 
withstanding several  influential  backers,  he  appears  to 
have  been  a  failure,  he  returned  to  the  Marquis  of 
Exeter's  stables.  His  Lordship  still  drives  him  in  his 
four-in-hand,  giving  him  an  cccasional  day's  work  at 
Radley  Farm,  where  he  goes  to  plough  and  drill  on  a 
new  system  with  an  Irish  horse  called  Single-Peeper. 

"The    White  Horse  Bob  has  been  shipped  off  to  the 


Antipodes  to  improve  the  breed  in  Her  Majesty's  Colonies. 
He  is  already  said  to  have  attracted  considerable  notice 
among  judges  in  those  quarters. 

"  Lancastrian ,  though  now  an  aged  horse,  has  of  late 
displayed  evidences  of  more  than  ordinary  vigour. 

"  Reformation.  This  fine  old  horse  still  works  his  coach 
with  his  usual  regularity.  On  the  death  of  his  late  master 
he  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  deputation  from  the  Parent 
Society,  by  whom,  we  are  happy  to  hear,  he  is  driven 
gently  and  kindly  treated. 

"Barrister.  Little  has  been  heard  of  this  horse  since 
the  meeting  of  1839.  He  may  possibly  have  been  at 
work  in  the  Metropolitan  Conveyance  department.  He 
is  undoubtedly  a  superior  animal  if  he  would  work  steadily. 
He  walked  over  the  other  day  for  one  of  Her  Majesty's 
Plates,  which  will  entail  upon  him  a  good  deal  of  public 
running,  from  which  much  is  anticipated. 

"  Stockbroker.  Turned  out  to  grass  at  the  expense  of 
the  University,  which  had  no  other  provision  for  him. 
He  has  lately  had  a  sack  or  two  of  corn  sent  down,  to 
keep  up  his  spirits. 

"  Barbadoes  is  the  last  horse  on  the  old  list,  and  the 
first  on  the  new  one.  He  is  the  only  one  of  the  old  lot 
who  has  had  pluck  enough  to  run  again.  Not  long  after 
the  last  race  he  changed  owners,  Mr.  Bailly  Jenks  having 
purchased  him  from  A.  Hall,  Esq.,  for  300  sovs.  and 
half  his  future  earnings.  It  is  gratifying  to  find  that  he 
has  fallen  into  such  good  hands,  as  Mr.  Jenks  is  one 
of  the  most  sporting  men  in  the  University.  His  annual 
meeting  in  November  for  the  Foal  Stakes  is  always  well 
attended,  honestly  run,  and  better  contested  than  any 
similiar  race  in  the  University.  He  is  no  less  wide 
awake  in  drafting  off  an  unsound  or  suspicious  animal 
than  in  getting  hold  of  good  ones  to  begin  with.  Three 
winners  out  of  four  in  the  last  University  Trial  Stakes 
are  no  small  proof  of  the  excellence  of  Mr.  Bailly  Jenks's 


training  establishment.  A  little  more  sweating  of  the 
young  ones  on  the  Catechetical  Course  is  the  only 
decided  improvement  that  might  be  made,  as  they  have 
been  on  several  occasions  very  much  distressed  for  want 
of  this  kind  of  exercise.  Some  persons  fancy  it  does 
not  signify,  because  they  see  horses  who  have  quite 
shut  up  at  this  part  of  the  course  go  ahead  before  the 
end  of  the  race.  Be  that  as  it  may,  it  gives  a  respectable 
finish  to  the  style  of  the  cleverest  winner.  The  great 
merit  of  Barbadoes  is  his  age  and  steadiness.  There 
is  no  danger  of  his  bolting  over  the  ropes  or  causing 
any  disturbance  on  the  course ;  and  there  is  little  doubt 
but  that  Mr.  Jenks's  well-known  colours,  the  yellow  body 
and  pink  sleeves,  will  be  seen  well  forward  in  the  race. 
There  are  rather  heavy  books  against  Christmas,  Tom 
Towzer,  and  Mainsail.  Barbadoes  is  free  from  this  dis- 
advantage; but  on  the  other  hand,  many  sportsmen 
prefer  to  see  a  good  book  made  up  before  they  back 
a  horse  to  any  great  amount. 

"We  have  now  to  make  a  few  remarks  on  the  three 
new  horses  who  are  to  come  before  the  public  on  the 
present  occasion,  namely  the  following  : — 

"Her  Majesty's  brown  colt  Tom  Towzer,  a  dark  horse, 
but  one  who  has  a  great  many  friends  on  the  ground 
of  his  careful  training  for  this  particular  event.  He  ran  for 
the  University  Trial  Stakes  in  1840,  and  came  out  only 
a  third.  Some  persons  were  of  opinion  that  he  was 
amiss  at  the  time,  but  whether  it  was  so  or  not,  he  has 
had  ample  opportunity  since  then  to  mend  his  pace  and 
improve  his  action.  It  may  be  a  question  whether  his 
style  is  not  too  high  and  too  much  of  the  canter  for  a 
University  Logic  Race.  Mr.  Samuel  Cudsdon,  whose 
attachment  to  everything  connected  with  royalty  would 
naturally  ensure  his  support  to  her  Majesty's  horse,  has 
backed  him  strongly,  and  is  supposed  to  have  a  pot 
of  money  depending  on  the  event. 


"  Mr.  St.  John's  Mainsail.  A  cocky  little  horse,  full 
of  fun  and  frolic,  but  warranted  free  from  vice.  His  per- 
formances have  hitherto  been  first  rate,  and  he  is  strongly 
backed  by  that  eminent  sportsman,  Sir  William  Hamilton. 
He  is  a  horse  of  undeniable  merit  and  lasting  power :  has 
been  known,  even  in  hot  weather,  to  work  a  coach  for 
twelve  hours  a  day,  without  delay  or  disappointment  to  the 
passengers.  He  is  admirably  supported  by  his  owner,  who 
backs  him  in  the  most  spirited  manner.  His  jockey  is 
sure  to  do  him  justice,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  way  in 
which  he  put  along  that  slow  old  horse,  Grey  Roundabout, 
for  the  Members'  Plate.  N.B.  Mainsail's  friends  are  re- 
spectfully informed  that  the  proceedings  of  the  day  will  be 
concluded  by  a  first-rate  ordinary  at  the  Lamb  and  Flag. 

"  Lord  Oriel's  Christmas.  A  very  fine  colt,  got  by  the 
Provost  out  of  Brascinia.  Like  Tom  Towzer's,  his 
action  is  perhaps  a  touch  too  high,  but  he  is  one  of 
the  right  sort  for  this  kind  of  race.  Some  had  objected 
to  his  rider  as  too  heavy,  and  a  trifle  long  in  the  leg ; 
but  he  carried  him  uncommonly  well  on  the  way 
from  Worcester  right  into  Lord  Oriel's  stable,  running 
bang  over  a  poor  fellow  of  the  name  of  Smith,  who 
happened  to  be  in  the  way.  'Tap  the  Physic,'  and 
'The  Shady  Cloud,'  have  somewhat  shaken  public 
confidence  in  this  stable  by  their  recent  performances; 
and  there  have  been  other  melancholy  instances  of  un- 
soundness  amongst  Lord  Oriel's  horses,  arising  possibly 
from  over-training.  His  Lordship  has  done  all  that 
man  could  do  to  keep  them  on  their  legs;  and  in 
refusing  a  warranty  to  the  Marquis  of  Exeter,  when 
he  purchased  Shady  Cloud  a  few  seasons  back,  gave 
ample  proofs  of  the  correctness  of  his  judgment  and 
the  honesty  of  his  conduct.  Many  sporting  men  of  high 
reputation  would  be  glad  to  see  Christmas  a  winner, 
but  the  general  impression  is  that  the  race  will  be 
among  the  other  three. 


"  The  following  is  the  latest  quotation  of  the  odds  :— 

"  3  to  2  against  Barbadoes. 
2  to  i  against  Mainsail. 
4  to  I  against  Tom  Towzer. 
15  to  i  against  Christmas. 

"  Gentlemen  proposing  to  be  present  at  the  race  are  in- 
formed that  everything  has  been  arranged  with  a  view  to 
their  comfort  and  convenience  by  the  Vice-Chancellor  and 
the  Proctors,  under  the  able  superintendence  of  Mr.  P. 
Bliss,  the  much  respected  Clerk  of  the  Course.  On  entering 
the  Grand  Stand  they  are  earnestly  requested  not  to  push 
one  another  more  than  is  absolutely  necessary,  as  there  is 
plenty  of  accommodation  for  all. 

"The  thanks  of  the  University  are  due  to  the  owners  of 
St.  Michael  for  not  starting  him  on  the  present  occasion, 
as,  in  case  of  his  appearance,  this  exciting  race  might  have 
shared  the  fate  of  the  Lady  Margaret  Stakes,  and  de- 
generated into  a  dull,  periodical  walk  over. 

"  Postscript. 

"Friday  morning,  June  15.  The  following  is  the  result 
of  the  race,  decided  yesterday : — 

"Mr.  Bailly  Jenks's  br.  c.  Barbadoes,  17  years  (B.  Jowett),  I. 
Mr.  St.  John's  b.  c.  Mainsail,  6  years  (Higgs),  II. 
Her  Majesty's  br.  c.  Tom  Towzer,  16  years  (Barrott),  III. 
Lord  Oriel's  ch.  c.  Christmas,  8  years  (Buggon),  drawn." 

Here  ended  Landon's  jeu  d*  esprit.  It  remains  to  ex- 
plain the  allusions.  The  1849  candidates  were  Barbadoes, 
Mainsail,  Christmas,  Tom  Towzer. 

The  brown  colt  Barbadoes  was  Henry  Wall  of  Balliol, 
born  in  that  island.  Jenks  was  the  irreverent  sobriquet 
of  Dr.  Jenkyns,  Master  of  Balliol.  Wall  was  proposed 
by  Jowett.  The  black  colt  Mainsail  was  Hs  L.  Mansel 
of  St.  John's,  afterwards  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  proposed 
by  Dr.  Higgs  of  the  same  College.  The  chestnut  colt 


Christmas  was  C.  P.  Chretien  of  Oriel,  proposed  by 
Burgon.  Her  Majesty's  brown  colt  Tom  Towzer  was 
Thomas  Bowser  Thompson  of  Queen's.  His  proposer 
was  Barrow  of  Queen's,  Principal  of  St.  Edmund's  Hall,  a 
learned  cheery  little  man,  but  a  strong  Tractarian ;  while 
the  Hall,  long  under  the  influence  of  Daniel  Wilson,  had 
become  a  nursery  of  Evangelicals.  He  soon  resigned, 
went  abroad,  and  died  a  Jesuit.  The  years  represent  each 
man's  years  of  residence. 

The  "sporting  chief"  was  Ashurst  Turner  Gilbert, 
Principal  of  Brasenose,  in  whose  Vice-Chancellorship 
the  "  Readership,"  as  it  was  originally  called,  came  into 
existence.  He  was  made  Bishop  of  Chichester  in  1842. 
The  salary  of  ,£250  was  to  be  provided  by  a  small 
payment  from  every  member  of  the  University,  servitors 
excepted,  under  the  degree  of  M.A.  The  arrangement 
did  not  answer,  was  abandoned,  and  is  here  ridiculed. 

The  eight  horses  for  the  1839  race  had  been  St.  Michael, 
Gruel,  The  White  Horse  Bob,  Lancastrian,  Reformation, 
Stockbroker,  Barbadoes. 

St.  Michael  was  Richard  Michell,  Reader  in  Logic 
during  the  ten  previous  years.  The  "  Rhetorical  Sweeps  " 
was  the  post  of  Public  Orator,  which  he  had  for  some 
time  held.  While  delivering  the  Crewe  Oration  from 
the  rostrum  at  Commemoration  he  used  to  gesticulate 
with  his  cap.  I  remember  once  his  extending  it  with 
an  animated  flourish,  when  an  undergraduate  in  the 
gallery  just  above  him  dropped  a  halfpenny  into  it. 
By  the  "Bampton  Stakes"  was  meant,  of  course,  the 
Bampton  Lectureship,  which  he  held  in  1849.  His 
sermons,  which  I  dutifully  attended,  were  extraordinarily 
tedious.  The  elderly  gentleman  was  Macbride,  Principal 
of  Magdalen  Hall.  He  was  very  learned,  very  ugly,  and 
the  only  Head  besides  Marsham  of  Merton  who  was 
not  in  Orders.  When  Gandell,  the  Chaplain,  was  late 
for  or  absent  from  Chapel,  the  old  man,  though  a  lay- 


man,  used  to  read  the  entire  service  himself.  He  had 
made  Michell  Vice-Principal  in  succession  to  Jacobson, 
who  became  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity. 

Gruel  was  an  amusingly  apt  name  for  William  Sewell 
of  Exeter.  The  "  novel  line  "  refers  to  his  editing  his  sister 
Elizabeth's  religious  novels,  "Amy  Herbert,"  "Margaret 
Percival,"  and  the  rest,  eagerly  read  once,  now,  I  fear, 
forgotten.  He  wrote  also  himself  a  hysterical  novel  called 
"  Hawkstone."  His  "  season  in  Ireland ''  was  spent  in 
the  foundation  of  St.  Columba's  College;  the  " influential 
backers "  were  Lord  Adare,  the  Primate  Lord  John 
Beresford,  and  Dr.  Todd  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  He 
broke  away  from  this  enterprise,  nobody  quite  knew  why, 
and  transferred  his  energies  to  Radley.  Single-Peeper  was 
Singleton,  its  first  Warden. 

The  White  Horse  Bob  was  Bob  Lowe  of  Magdalen, 
an  Albino  with  snowy  hair.  He  was  a  popular  Class  Coach, 
but  left  Oxford  for  Australia,  returning  after  a  distinguished 
career  to  become  a  member  of  Mr.  Gladstone's  Government, 
and  to  be  made  Lord  Sherbrook.  His  first  wife  was 
a  Miss  Orrid.  It  was  said  to  be  an  "  'Orrid  Low  match." 

Lancastrian  was  T.  W.  Lancaster,  formerly  Fellow  of 
Queen's,  who  lived  in  Oxford,  an  elderly  man  with  an 
elderly  wife,  for  a  time  Usher  of  the  Magdalen  Choristers, 
and  frequently  Examiner  in  the  Little-Go  Schools.  The 
"  evidence  of  more  than  ordinary  vigour "  refers  to  £ 
sermon  he  had  preached  before  the  University,  in  which 
he  had  spoken  of  Hampden  as  "  that  atrocious  Professor." 
He  was  severely  censured  by  his  College,  and  published  a 
lengthy  pamphlet  in  self-defence. 

Reformation  was  John  Hill,  Vice-President  of  St. 
Edmund's  Hall.  His  "  late  master  "  was  Principal  Grayson, 
who  died  in  1843;  a  ponderous  being  with  a  handsome 
wife  much  younger  than  himself.  He  is  mentioned 
contumeliously  in  "  Black  Gowns  and  Red  Coats."  The 
"  deputation  from  the  Parent  Society  "  was  W.  Thompson  of 


Queen's,  who  succeeded  Grayson  at  the  Hall,  and  was 
an  ardent  supporter  of  the  Church  Missionary  Society. 
Herein  Hill  was  strongly  in  accord  with  his  chief,  being 
always  appointed  to  receive  the  Society's  deputation  at 
the  Oxford  meetings.  He  was  the  recognised  leader  of 
the  Low  Church  party,  giving  tea-parties  to  like-minded 
undergraduates  once  or  twice  a  week  at  his  house  in 
the  High,  where  pietistic  talk,  prayer,  exposition,  and 
hymnody  were  lightened  by  the  presence  of  his  four 
charming  daughters. 

Barrister  was  Henry  Halford  Vaughan.  Fellow  of  Oriel. 
He  had  left  Oxford  to  practice  at  the  Chancery  Bar, 
the  "Metropolitan  Conveyance."  "Her  Majesty's  Plate" 
was  the  Regius  Professorship  of  Modern  History,  to  which 
Vaughan  was  appointed  in  1848.  His  high  reputation 
drew  at  first  large  audiences  to  the  Theatre,  but  his  lectures 
were  too  condensed  and  close  in  texture  to  be  followed 
easily  by  the  casually-minded  undergraduate,  nor  was  there 
at  that  time  any  Modern  History  School  to  stimulate 
serious  study. 

Stockbroker  was  Dr.  C.  W.  Stocker  of  St.  John's.  He  had 
been  "  turned  out  to  grass  "  on  a  country  living  in  the  gift 
of  Convocation.  The  "  sack  of  corn "  was  a  grant  of 
money  bestowed  on  him  by  the  University  for  some 
parochial  purpose. 

Barbadoes^  as  we  have  said,  was  Henry  Wall.  By  his 
"  change  of  owners  "  is  meant  his  election  to  a  Bursary  and 
Fellowship  at  Balliol  from  St.  Alban  Hall,  of  which  he  was 
Vice-Principal.  The  "Foal  Stakes"  was,  of  course,  the 
annual  contest  for  the  Balliol  Scholarships.  The  "  drafting 
off"  meant  expulsion  from  the  College;  two  recent 
instances  gave  point  to  the  passage.  The  "  three  winners 
out  of  four  "  were  James  Hornby,  afterwards  Head  Master 
of  Eton,  Henry  Smith,  Professor,  and  Curator  of  the 
Museum,  and  William  Warburton,  now  Canon  of  Win- 
chester. The  "Catechetical  Course"  was  the  viva  voce 


examination  in  Divinity  for  Greats ;  in  this  several  Balliol 
men  had  shown  weakness.  Jenks's  colours,  "  yellow  body 
and  pink  sleeves,"  commemorate  the  nickname  "  Yellow 
Belly"  borne  by  Dr.  Jenkyns's  butler,  almost  as  notable 
a  character  as  his  master,  and  arrayed  always  in  a 
protuberant  canary-coloured  waistcoat. 

Tom  Towzer  was  Thomas  Bowser  Thompson  of  Queen's, 
a  "dark  horse,"  because,  being  idle  in  his  younger  days, 
he  obtained  only  a  third  in  Greats.  Samuel  Cudsdon 
was  Bishop  Wilberforce,  who  energetically  supported 
Thompson.  Those  who  remember  Mansel  will  appreciate 
the  description  of  Mainsail.  He  was  the  exponent  in 
Oxford  of  Sir  William  Hamilton's  philosophy.  His  coach- 
ing for  twelve  hours  a  day  was  one  of  the  ben  trovato  myths 
which  sprang  up  round  him  and  Jowett.  When  Fearon  of 
Balliol,  afterwards  H.  M.  Inspector  of  Schools,  was  within 
six  or  seven  weeks  of  the  Schools,  he  went  to  Wall  with  his 
Logic.  Wall  examined  and  dismissed  him,  "could  not  in 
so  short  a  time  make  up  for  previous  neglect."  Jowett 
heard  of  it  and  sent  for  him.  "  I  hear  Mr.  Wall  gives  you 
up ;  I  will  undertake  you,  if  you  like.  I  am  engaged  always 
till  12  at  night,  but  if  you  like  to  come  to  me  from  12  till  i, 
I  will  do  the  best  I  can."  For  six  weeks  the  midnight  work 
went  on  ;  then  said  Jowett,  "  I  think  you  may  face  the  exa- 
miners now" — and  Fearon  got  his  First.  A  "Jowler 
myth  "  most  likely,  but  showing  the  estimation  in  which  he 
was  held.  Hansel's  "  owner  "  was  President  Wynter ;  his 
"jockey"  was  little  Dr.  Higgs,  who  had  been  an  active 
canvasser  for  Charles  Grey  Round,  "Grey  Roundabout," 
a  parliamentary  candidate  for  Oxford  University  in  1847. 
The  "  Lamb  and  Flag "  were  the  armorial  bearings  of  St. 
John's ;  a  big  dinner  was  given  in  Hall  after  the  voting  to 
all  the  St.  John's  supporters  of  Mansel. 

G.  P.  Chretien  of  Oriel,  Christmas,  had  been  elected  to 
a  Fellowship  from  Brasenose  (Brascinia).  His  rider  was 
Burgon,  whose  queer  person  was  supported  by  two  un- 


usually  "  long  legs."  He  had  been  elected  from  Worcester 
to  an  Oriel  Fellowship  over  the  head  of  Goldwin  Smith ; 
is  it  not  written,  acrimoniously,  in  Mark  Pattison's 
"  Memories  "  ?  "  Tap  the  Physic  "  was  Clough,  a  play  on 
Toper- na-Fuosich.  "Shady  Cloud"  was  Froude,  whose 
"Shadows  of  the  Clouds  by  Zeta"  had  been  published 
in  1847.  He  afterwards  suppressed  it.  The  "instances 
of  unsoundness"  refers  to  the  Newmanian  secessions. 
Hawkins  refused  a  testimonial,  or  "  warranty, "  to  Froude 
when  he  stood  for,  and  was  elected  to,  a  Fellowship  at 

The  "Clerk  of  the  Course"  was  Dr.  Philip  Bliss,  Uni- 
versity Registrar.  The  "  Grand  Stand  "  was  the  Divinity 
School,  where  the  voting  arrangements  were  outrageously 
inconvenient.  I  remember  once,  when  we  were  struggling 
to  record  our  votes,  Archdeacon  Bartholomew,  at  the  far 
end  of  the  room,  shouting  a  pathetic  appeal  to  the  Vice- 
Chancellor,  Dr.  Williams,  who  answered  that  unless  the 
gentleman  should  hold  his  peace,  he  would  send  a  bedel  to 
remove  him. 

The  "  Lady  Margaret  Stakes  "  was  the  Margaret  Professor- 
ship of  Divinity,  then  a  biennial  appointment,  but  renewed 
as  a  matter  of  course.  It  had  long  been  held  by  Dr. 


For  this  interesting  history  of  an  extinct  but  once 
famous  institution  I  am  indebted,  as  for  much  besides, 
to  Dr.  Farrar  of  Durham. 

Oxford  being  disloyal  to  the  House  of  Hanover, 
Walpole  advised  George  II.  to  summon  Oxford  divines 
to  preach  before  him,  as  an  endeavour  to  conciliate  the 
University.  It  being  pointed  out  that  this  would  be 


looked  upon  as  a  slight  to  Cambridge,  it  was  determined 
to  take  from  each  University  twelve  resident  College 
Fellows,  each  in  turn  to  preach  once  a  fortnight,  and 
their  appointment  to  be  permanent  so  long  as  their 
residence  continued.  It  was  found,  however,  after  a  time 
that  the  abler  Fellows,  passing  away  from  the  Universities, 
ceased  to  hold  their  office;  while  men  unmarried  and 
unpromoted  stayed  on  obsolete  and  senile.  One  of  these 
was  Griffith.  Howley,  when  Bishop  of  London,  hearing 
complaints  of  his  preaching,  went  to  hear  him,  and  found 
him  worse  than  he  had  thought  possible.  After  service 
he  followed  him  into  the  vestry.  "  Mr.  Griffith,  I  want  to 
speak  to  you  about  your  sermon."  Bowing  low,  Griffith 
replied :  "  I  beg  that  your  Lordship  will  not  do  so  :  it 
is  a  sufficient  compliment  to  me  that  you  should  be 
present ;  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  your  commendation  of 
the  sermon."  Howley  went  away  discomfited;  and 
ascending  to  Canterbury  soon  after,  bequeathed  the 
difficulty  to  his  successor  Blomfield.  He  attempted  inter- 
ference, and  was  in  his  turn  foiled  by  Mo.;  but  as  the 
Whitehall  Chapel  Royal,  in  which  the  sermons  were 
delivered,  needed  extensive  repair,  he  took  the  opportunity 
of  dismissing  all  the  preachers ;  and  when  two  years  later 
the  Chapel  was  reopened,  obtained  the  Queen's  consent 
to  a  change  of  system,  appointing  two  resident  Fellows, 
one  from  each  University,  to  preach  month  by  month 
for  two  years  only,  with  a  salary  of  ^300  a  year  from 
the  Queen's  privy  purse.  Of  course,  Mo.  was  not  re- 
appointed  :  he  used  to  come  to  the  Chapel,  seat  himself 
in  some  corner  which  the  preacher's  voice  ordinarily  failed 
to  reach,  and  say  aloud  from  time  to  time — "  I  cannot 
hear  a  word." 


Abernethy,  65 

Acland,  Sir  H.  (Dr.),  33,  37,  45, 

&c.,  52,  58,  142,  154,  315 
Acland,  Sir  T.,  sen.,  89,  91 
Acland,  Sir  T.,  jun.,  84,  85,  86,  88, 

&c.,  217,  262 
Adams,  W.,  85,  169 
Adare,  Lord,  278 
Adelaide,  Queen,  4 
Albert,  Prince,  267 
Aldrich,  Dean,  71 
Alford,  Dean,  249 
Allbutt,  Professor,  1 1 1 
Allen  (of  Holland  House),  142 
Angelo  (fencer),  107 
Argyll,  Duke  of,  241 
Armitstead,  W.  G.,  201 
Arnold,  Dr.,   182,    183,  193,    195, 

210,  211,  218,  231 
Arnold,  Matthew,  97, 110,121,  184, 

283,  284 
Atterbury,  Charles,  145 


Badcock,  15 

Baden  Powell,  Professor,  18,  42,  49 

Baden  Powell,  Mrs.,  17 

Bagot,  Bishop,  129 

Baker,  G.  W.,  35 

Balfour,  Professor,  58 

Bandinel,  Dr.,  161,  170 

Banks,  Sir  J.,  36 

Barnes,  Dr.,  129 

Bartlett,  R.  E.,  109,  247 

Batchelor,  Eleanor,  290 

Bathurst,  Stewart,  269 

Bathurst,  W.,  19 

Baxters  (gardeners),  34 

Baxter  (printer),  293 

Bayliss,  Judge,  72 

Bayly,  E.  G.,  of  Pembroke,  153 

Bennett  (St.  Paul's,  Knightsbridge), 


Bennett  (Rugby  Tonsor),  217 
Benson,  Archbishop,  272 
Beresford,  Lord  J.,  278 
Besant,  Walter,  in 
Bethell  (Lord  Westbury),  198 
Bishop,  Sir  Henry,  73,  81 
Bishop  (of  the  Angel),  291 
Blachford,  Lord,  153 
Blackstone,  Charles,  244 
Blagrave  (Magdalen),  163 
Blagrove  (violinist),  76 
Blanco  White*  185,  262 
Bland,  Archdeacon,  216 
Blaydes.    See  Calverley 
Bliss,  Dr.,  152,  162 
Blomfield,  Bishop,  27,  275,  337 
Blomfield,  A.,  310 
Bloxam,  Dr.,  170 
Bloxam,  Matthew,  84,  165 
Blyth  (organist),  77 
Bockh,  Professor,  126 
Bode  (Christchurch),  150,  155 
Boone,  Shergold,  115 
Bothie,    98,     120,    305,    and     see 





Bourne,  Dr.,  63 

Bouverie,  137 

Bowen,  Ch.,  310 

Boyle,  Dean,  275 

Boxall,  Miss,  7 

Bradley,  Dean,  272 

Brancker,  Tom,  174,  &c. 

Brasenose  Ale,  94 

Bree,  Archdeacon,  28 

Brereton,  Canon,  89,  217 

Bridges,  President,  239,  308 

Bridges  (Fellow  of  Corpus),  239,  &c. 

Bright,  John,  199 

Brodie,  Sir  B.,  sen.,  56,  65 

Brodie,  Sir  B.,  jun.,  57,  58,  98 

Brookfield  (Cambridge),  86 

Browning,  2 

Bruno,  Dr.,  270 

Buckland,  Dr.,  36,  &c.,48,  49,  141 

Buckland,  Mrs.,  38 

Buckland,  Frank,  37,  38,  39,  41, 

1 06,  &c. 
Buckley,  108 
Bucknill,  "Hip-hip,"  232 
Bull,  Dr.,  26,  &c. 
Buller,  Charles,  86 
Bulteel,  268 
Bulwer  Lytton,  69 
Bunsen,  Baron,  90,  147 
Burgon,  54,  190,  233,  241,  243,  273 
Burne-Jones,  51 
Burney,  Miss,  9,  72 
Burrows,  Commander,  296 
Burrows,  Sir  G.,  65 
Burton,  "Jack  and  Tom,"  7 
Butler  (of  Shrewsbury),  206,  215 
Butler,  Bishop,  213,  265 
Byron,  127,  303 

Cain  and  Abel,  252 
Calverley,  109,  &c.,  247 

Canning,  G.,  7,  69 

Canning,  Lord,  36,  185 

Cardwell,  Mrs.,  52 

Cardwell,  M.  R.,  95 

Carlyle,  56,  92,  222 

Carroll,  Lewis,  155,  &c. 

Cecil,  Lord  R.,  227 

Chamberlain,  "  Tom,"  108 

Chambers  (Magdalen),  164 

Chambers  (Proctor),  192 

Chapman,  President,  224 

Chapman  (naturalist),  42 

Charles  I.,  163,  296 

Charlotte,  Queen,  131 

Chase,  Dr.,  126,  242 

Chretien  (Oriel),  134 

Church,  Dean,  85,  153,  224 

Clarence,  Duke  of,  102 

Clark  (Taunt on),  193 

Claughton,  Bishop,  84,  224,  238 

Clemend  (violinist),  76 

Clifton  (Brasenose),  72 

Clough,  97,  &c.,  126,  184,  196,  205 , 


Cole,  W.  G.,  224,  225 
Cole  (Papirius  Carbo),  225,  230 
Colenso,  Bishop,  209 
Coleridge,  S.  T.,  2,  117 
Coleridge,  Herbert,  117,  &c. 
Coleridge,  Sara,  117 
Coles,  Henry,  175 
Collins  (the  poet),  258 
Combe  (of  the  Clarendon),  49 
Compton  (Rugby  master),  272 
Congreve  (Wadham),  121 
Conington,  John,  104,  105,  206,  207, 

222,  276 
Conybeare,  276 
Copeland,  29,  224 
.Copleston,  Provost,  16,  17,  121,  &c. 
Corfe,  Dr.,  77 
Corfe,  Mrs.,  51,  77 
Corfe,  Charles,  51 


Costar,  4,  145 

Cotton  (Rugby  master),  197 

Cotton ,  Dr. ,  frontispiece 

Cotton,  Archdeacon,  127 

Cowie,  Dean,  219 

Cox,  George,  114,  170 

Cox,  Hay  ward,  254,  271 

Cox,  John,  114 

Cox,  Valentine,  118,  243 

Coxe,  Henry,  163,  242,  243 

Crabbe,  2 

Cramer,  Dr.,  116,  309 

Cross,  241 

Crotch,  Dr.,  73 

Crowe  (Orator),  171,  172 

Cure,  Capel,  220 


Dale,  J.,  300 

Dalhousie,  Lord,  85 

Dalton,  Reginald,  60 

Damien,  Father,  186 

Darnel  (of  Corpus),  1 6 

Darwin  fight,  52,  56,  139 

Daubeny,  Dr.,  31,  &c.,  49,  54,  57, 

163,  164,  289 
Davies,  "Tom,"  21 
Davison,  17 
Davy,  Sir  H.,  41 
Deane,  Sir  T.,  56 
Deichmann,  148 
Delane,  51 
Denison,  Archdeacon,  179,  181,  191, 

&c.,  318 

Denison,  Bishop,  268,  269 
Derby,   Lord,  49,    102,   154,  304, 

"  3H 

Detenus,  24,  173 
Dibdin,  T.  F.,  12 
Dickens,  2 

Dickinson  (novelist),  85 
Dindorf,  125 

Disraeli,  199,  320 

Dolby,  Madame,  155 

Dolling,  Father,  186 

Dollinger,  228 

Donkin,  Professor,  72,  98 

Dons,  19 

Douglas,  Helen,  127 

Doyle,  Sir  F.,  86 

Draper,  Professor,  54 

Driffield  (musical  amateur),  72 

Dunbar,  12,  &c.,  116,  299 

Duncans,  the  brothers,  115,  170 

Duncan,  Phil.,  35,  175, 

East  wick,  23 

Eden  (Oriel),  63,  179,  190,  &c. 

Egerton,  Sir  P.,  37 

Elgin,  Lord,  85 

Ellerton,  Dr.,  22 

Elvey,  George,  74 

Elvey,  Stephen,  73 

Eothen.     See  Kinglake 

Erie,  Christopher,  6,  122,  123,  172 

Erie,  Sir  W.,  5,  17 

Erie,  T.  W.,  240 

Evans,  Dr.  S.,  215,  272 

Evans  ( Pembroke),  242 

Eveleigh,  Provost,  186 

Everett,  U.S.  minister,  151 

Exmouth,  Lord,  24,  241 

Faber,  Frank,  116,  160,  164,  165 
Faber,  "  Waterlily,"  116,  169 
Fanshawe,  Catherine,  67,  99,  303 
Fanshawe,  Frederick,  272 
Faussett,  R.,  286 
Faussett,  T.,  247,  &c. 
Fichie,  222 
Fitzroy,  Admiral,  55 



Foote,  175 
Foulkes,  Dr.,  7 
Foulkes,  Mrs.,  7 
Foulkes,  E.  S.,  101 
Fox  (Queen's),  308 
Freeman,  J.  A.,  102,  105 
Freytag,  Professor,  135 
Froude,  H.,  116, 121,  142, 186,  292 
Froude,  J.  A.,  185,  262,  276 
Frowd,  Dr.,  12,  24,  &c.,  241 
Furneaux,  Henry,  48,  99,  120,  240, 
245,  &c.,  286 

Gabriel,  Dr.,  15 

Gaisford,  Dean,  37,  71,  106,  116, 
i*3,  fee. 

Gaisford,  Miss,  126 
Garbett,  Professor,  152,  225 
Gardiner,  S.,  126 
George,  "  Mother,"  290 
Gilbert,  Dr.,  14,  98,  225,  308 
Giles,  Archdeacon,  94 
Girdlestone,  Charles,  321 
Gladstone,   60,    61,    85,    86,    115, 

202,  228 
Goethe,  221,  255 
Goldsmith,  213 

Goodenough  (Christchurch),  128 
Goodsir,  Professor,  46 
Goose,  "  Mother,"  290 
Gordon,   Osborne,    53,    120,    127, 

155,  &c.,  311,  313 
Gore,  Bishop,  214 
Goss,  Dr.,  8 1 
Goulburn,    Dean,    141,    217,   231, 

269,  &c. 

Grant,  Archdeacon,  170 
Grantham,  G.,  75 
Granville,  Lady,  7 
Gray,  258,  260 
Green,  T.  H.,  118,  221,  &c. 

Green,  "Paddy,"  198 

Greg,  214 

Gregorians,  76 

Gregorie,  David,  66 

Grenville,  Lord,  37 

Greswell,  E.,  7,  240 

Greswell,  R.,  54 

Griffith,  Mo.,  12,  27,  &c.,  336 

Griffiths  (Wadham),  49 

Grote,  133 

Guidotti,  291 

Guillemard  (Proctor),  153,  244 

Gutch,  J.,  289 

Gutch,  Sarah,  289 


Hacker,  Marshall,  8,  162 

Haggitt  (Wegg  Prosser),  286 

Hallam,  A.,  84,  86,  121 

Halle,  72 

Hamilton,  Bishop,  28,  85,  86,  268, 


Hammond  (Merton),  7 
Hampden,  Bishop,  18,  100,  244,  275 
Hancock  (Christchurch  porter),  126 
Hardy,  Gathorne,  60,  61 
Hare,  Archdeacon,  264 
Harington  (Brasenose),  123 
Hascoll,  Captain,  279 
Hawes,  Miss,  226 
Hawkins,    Provost,    18,    126,    179, 

186,  &c.,  192 
Heathcote,  W.  B.,  50,  175 
Henderson,  Dean,  165 
Hendry,  Abel,  17 
Henslow,  Professor,  34,  53,  57 
Herbert,  Algernon,  139 
Herbert,  Edward,  138 
Herostratus,  162 
Hewlett  (chorister),  75,  82 
Hewlett  (novelist),  85 
Hext  (Corpus),  25,  241,  &c. 



Hibbert,  Julian,  136 

Hill,J.,  96,  271 

Hinds,  Howell,  18,  182 

Hobhouse,  Bishop,  269 

Hobhouse,  Lord,  98 

Hodgkinson,  J.,  300 

Hodson,  Frodsham,  201 

Holland,  Lady,  142 

Holland,  J.  M.,  81 

Holme  (Corpus),  27 

Hooker,  Sir  J.,  56 

Hope  (Museum),  48,  58,  59 

Hope,  Scott,  85,  89 

Horseman,   Miss,  9,  &c.,  66,  175, 

179,  I9i 

Hoskins,  "Mad,"  172 

Hounslow,  269 

Howard,  G.,  235 

Howard  (of  Radley),  278 

Howe,  Lord,  5 

Howley,  Archbishop,  27,  37,  275, 


Hubbard,  281 
Hughes  (artist),  52 
Hughes,  George,  1 14, 194,  196,  242 
Hughes,  Tom,  114,  194,  &c. 
Hughes,  J.  W.,  287 
Hullah,  76 
Hunt,  Holman,  49 
Hussey,  R.,  126,  150 
Huxley,  53,  &c.,  210,  228 


Ingram,  President,  116,  223,  224 
Ireland,  Dr.,  63,  64 
Irving,  of  Balliol,  119,  188 


Jackson,  Cyril,  124,  125 
Jackson,  of  the  Uniomachia,  94 
Jacobson,  Dr.,  167,  275 

James  (confectioner),  291 

Jeffs,  "  Mother,"  290 

Jelf,  Dr.,  1 30 

Jelf,  W.  E.,  76,  132,  150,  &c. 

Jenkyns,  Dr.,  116,  200 

Jenner  (Magdalen),  162 

Jephson,  Dr.,  233 

Jeune,  Dr.,  51,  144,  310 

Johnson,  Dr.,  24,    140,   144,    166, 


Johnson,  Manuel,  49,  184 
Jones,  Collier,  275,  309 
Jowett,  54,  98,  121,  188,  202,  212, 

222,  228,  253,  &c.,  259,  261 
Joy,  "  Parson,"  292 
Jubber,  292 
Jullien,  76 

Karslake,  W.  H.,  29,  242 

Keble,  J.,    2,    17,   37,    184,  225, 

292,  293 

Kett,  "Horse,"  15,  &c.,  224 
Kidd,  Dr.,  16,  47,  62,  63 
Kidd,  Misses,  63 
King,  J.  R.,  310 
Kinglake,  A.  W.,  80,  212 
Kingsley,  Charles,  148,  195 
Kingsley,  Henry,  1 19 
Kitchin,  Dean,  150,  312 

Lake,   Dean,   182,   185,   187,    188, 

196,  205,  &c.,  269,  271 
Lancaster,  Harry,  206 
Lancaster  (of  Queen's),  158 
Landon  (Magdalen),  277,  296 
Land  or,  Savage,  16 
Lang,  A.,  287 

Latimer  (wine  merchant),  293,  300 
Laud's  tree,  296 



Le  Mesurier,  286 

Lee,  Harriett,  67 

Lee,  Lancelot,  173,  174 

Lee,  President,  237 

Lee,  Miss,  232 

Leonard,  65 

Levett  (Christchurch),  128 

Lewis  (Jesus),  151 

Ley,  Jacob,  150,  253 

Liddell,    37,    85,    117,    145,    154, 

i6>o,1foi,  202,  315 
Liddon,  134 
Linwood,  Miss,  150 
Linwood,  Professor,  150 
Litton,  "  Donkey,"  271 
Liverpool,  Lord,  125 
Lloyd,  Bishop,  128,  136,  268 
Lloyd,     Mrs.     and     the     Misses, 


Lloyd,  Foster,  150 
Lockhart,  62,  65 
Logic  Stakes,  326 
Lonsdale,  J.,  98 
Lonsdale,  Miss,  256 
Lothian,  Lord,  227 
Louse,  "  Mother,"  290 
Lowe,  "  Bob,"  94,  202 
Lowndes  (oarsman),  114 
Lyttelton,  Lord,  232,  318 


Macaulay,  in,  273 
Macbride,  63,  115,  286,  308 
Maclaren,  108 
Maclean,  Donald,  5 
Macmullen  (Corpus),  240 
M'Neile,  231 
Maconochie,  134 
Macray,  Dr.,  164 
Madan  (of  Bodleian),  12,  310 
Malan,  G.  C,  95,  &c. 

Malmesbury,  Lord,  87 

Manning,  86,  88,   169,   170,    180, 


Mansel,  Dean,  60,  248,  264 
Marriott,    Charles,    95,    133,    152, 

179,  189,  &c. 
Marriott,  John,  sen.,  17 
Marriott,  John,  jun.,  190 
Marsham,  Dr.,  307 
Martyrs'  Memorial,  295 
Massey,  M.  P.,  92 
Massie  (Uniomachia),  94 
Matthews,  Arthur,  302 
Matthews,  Colonel,  302 
Matthews,  Henry,  13,  302 
Maude  (of  Queen's),  24 
Maurice,    F.     D.,    89,    195,    222, 

261,  &c. 

Maurice,  Dr.  Peter,  74 
Mayow  (Uniomachia),  95 
Menzies,  Fletcher,  113 
Menzies  (Brasenose),  72 
Merivale,  Dean,  86 
Merry,  W.  W.,  310 
Meyrick,  F.,  227,  &c. 
Michell,  R.,  59 
Microscopic  Society,  56 
Mill,  J.  S.,  263 
Millais,  49 
Milton,  258 

Moberly,  Dr.,  98,  236,  246,  275 
Monro,  52 
Moon  (oarsman),  74 
Morris,  W.,  5,  53 
Morris,  "Jack,"  151,  243 
Mozley,  J.,  169,  184 
Mozley,  T.,  17,  181 
Miiller,  Max,  48,  72,  80,  90,   146, 

&c.,  202,  203,  276 
Mundella,  Rt.  Hon.,  101 
Mundy  (Magdalen  porter),  35 
Murray,  G.  W.,  76 
Museum,  46,  &c. 




Nares,  Dr.,  175 

Neate,  Charles,  37,  174,  189,  198 

Ness,  Charlotte,  14 

Nestor,  i,  82,  298 

Neve,  Mrs.,  7 

Newman,  Francis,  180,  185, 204,  &c 

Newman,  J.  H.,  2,  17,  71,  100,  116 
135,  142,  163,  179,  &c.,  190, 
192,  197,  217,  218,  224,  226, 
227,  228,  234,  &c.,  260,  262, 
275,  287,  289,  322 

Newman,  T.  H.,  166,  &c. 

Newman,  Mrs.,  179,  284 

Nicol,  Professor,  133 

Noetics,  The,  17,  173 

Norman  (of  Radley),  281 

Norris,  President,  240 

Oakley,  Sir  H.,  51,  77 

Ogle,  Dr.,  47,  63 

Ogle,  Octavius,  167 

Orlebar  (Rugby),  197 

Otter  (Corpus),  120,  231,  241 

Ouseley,  Sir  F.,  73,  77,  78,  81,  82, 

&c,  148 

Owen,  Professor,  37,  52 
Oxford,  Bishop  of,  see  Wilberforce 
Oxford  Novels,  85,  197 
Oxford  Spy,  64,  116 

Palmer,  Roundell,  84,  95 
Palmer,  William,  84,  181 
Palmerston,  Lord,  267 
Parker,  Charles,  222 
Parker,  Joseph,  17,  292 
Parnell  (St.  John's),  152 
Parr,  Dr.,  15,  161 

Parrott  (organist),  82 

Parsons,  Bishop,  15,  291 

Parsons  (Old  Bank),  219 

Patterson,  Monsignor,  226,  &c. 

Pattison,  M.  J.,  295 

Pattison,  Mark,  37,  95,  121,  133, 
136,  181,  187,  192,  213,  216, 
223,  228,  252,  &c.,  295 

Pattison,  Dora,  256,  260 

Pearse,  Mrs.,  7 

Peck  water,  129 

Peel,  Sir  Robert,  117,  125,  183 

Pegge,  Sir  Christopher,  13,  45,  62, 

Phillips,  Professor,  32,  44,  49 

Piozzi,  Mrs.,  73 

Plato,  87,  156,  214,  275 

Plumer,  C.  J.,  235 

Plummer,  Dr.,  230,  238 
Plumtre,  Dr.,  233,  and  frontispiece 
Pollen,  Ilungerford,  50,  52 
Pope,  7,  31,  54,  105,  145,  258 
Powell,  see  Baden 
Price,  Mrs.  B.,  52 
Prinsep  (artist),  52 
Prout  (Christchurch),  155 
Pugin,  158 

Pusey,  Dr.,  36,  134,  136,  &c.,  151, 
180,   184,  214,  225,  261,  263, 
264,  275,  310 
Pusey,  Lady  Lucy,  131 
Pusey,  Philip,  sen.,  90,  133,  143 
Pusey,  Philip,  jun.,  138 
Pyne,  Louisa,  77 

Quick,  Edward,  23 

Radnor,  Lord,  183 
Randall,  "Tom,"  114 



Reade,  Charles,  165 

Reid,  Wemyss,  84 

Reinagle  (musician),  76 

Reynolds  (Proctor),  153 

Richards  (Exeter),  275 

Richardson  (flute  player),  76 

Rickards  (Oriel),  293 

Riddell,  James,  202 

Ridding,  Arthur,  112,  230,  240 

Rigaud,  John,  26,  163,  166 

Risley,  W.,  174 

Risley,  "Bob,"  280 

Robertson,  Charles,  16,  64,  154 

Rogers  (artist),  53 

Rogers,  Thorold,    100,    &c.,    133, 

188,  219,  247,  255 
Rolleston,  Dr.,  32,  58,  140 
Rose,  Hugh  James,  1 36 
Rossetti,  52,  53 
Rothschild,  173 
Routh,  Dr.,  116,  159,  &c.,  172 
Routh,  Mrs.,  30,  159 
Rowden,  G.,  72 
Royds  (oarsman),  113 
Rudd  (Oriel),  23 
Ruskin,  33,  52,  98 
Russell,  Lord  J.f  276 
Rutland,  Duke  of,  89 

Sadler  (confectioner),  292 
Salisbury,  Lord,  228 
Sanctuary  (Exeter),  129 
Sarratt  (chess  player),  66 
Sawell,  J.,  74,  167 
Schlippenbach,  Countess,  130 
Scott,  Dr.,  94,  125,  169,  200,  212, 

Scott,  Walter,  2,   143,   260,    266, 


Sellon,  Miss,  134 
Selwyn  (Winchester  boy),  1 10 

Senior  Fellows,  21 

Septem  contra  Camum,  113,  306 

Sewell,  J.   E.  (New  College),    52, 

170,  177,  &c. 

Sewell,  R.  (Magdalen),  169 
Sewell,  W.  (Exeter),  49,  274,  &c. 
Shaftesbury,  Lord,  186 
Shaw,  Dr.,  125,  126 
Shea,  the  brothers,  52 
Sheppard,  J.  W.,  310 
Sheppard,  "  Tommy,"  232 
Short,  "Tommy,"  18,  84,  229,  &c.t 

Shuttleworth,  Warden,  22,  23,  37, 

147,  168,  275,  309,  316 
Sibthorp  (Magdalen),  164 
Sinclair,  W.,  94 

Singleton  (Radley),  278,  279,  280 
Skene,  of  Rubislaw,  225,  266 
Skey,  Dr.,  65 
Skidmore,  52,  160 
Slatter  (schoolmaster),  286,  &c. 
Smith,  Cecilia,  123 
Smith,  Dean,  123 
Smith,  Goldwin,  104,  105,  297 
Smith,  Henry,  61 
Smith,  Payne,  209 
Smith,  Sydney,  17,  18,  47,  193,  292 
Smythe,  Miss,  51 
Sneyd,  Warden,  309 
Spedding  (Cambridge),  86 
Spiers,  249 
Stainer,  Sir  J.,  82 
Stanhope  (artist),  52 
Stanley,  A.  P.,  79,  97,98,  121,  182, 

185,  196,  198,  267,  269,  271, 


Stanley,  Bishop,  79 
Stanley,  Lady,  303 
Stanley,  Lord,  79 
Stephen,  Fitzjames,  208 
Stephens  (angler),  290 
Sterling,  J.,  86,  262 



Stowe  (Oriel),  286 

Streets,  names  of,  296 

Strong,  Captain,  49 

Strong,  Professor,  229 

Stzrelecki,  Count,  92 

Sunderland  (Cambridge),  84 

Swanwick,  Anna,  258 

Symons,  "Ben,"     109,     152,    204, 

and  frontispiece 
Symonds,  Charles,  297 

Tait,  Archbishop,  37,  95,  217 

Talboys,  201,  292 

Tatham,  Dr.,  147 

Taunton,  Lord,  36,  90 

Temple,    Archbishop,     105,     212, 

214,  216,  &c.,  272 
Tennyson,  86,  121,  213,  251,  257, 


Thackeray,  76 
Thalberg,  76 
Theobald,  "White,"  230 
Thistlethwayte,  F.,  286 
Thistlethwayte,  Mrs.,  92 
Thomas  (naturalist),  43 
Thomas,  Vaughan,  243,  &c. 
Thompson  (Trinity,  Cambridge),  86, 

223,  267 

Thompson  (Lincoln),  26,  218,  254 
Thomson,  Archbishop,  37,  77,  136, 
265,  &c. 

Throgmorton,  Sir  R.,  133 

Thunny,  the,  155,  315 

Thursby,  Walter,  230 

Ticknor  (American),  92 

Todd,  Dr.,  278 

Tremenheere  (New  College),  170 

Tripp,  H.,  278 

Tuckwell,  62,  &c.,  302 

Tuckwell,  Dr.,  224 

Tyler  (Oriel),  235 

Uniomachia,  93,  200 


Vaughan,  Halford,  85,  106,  211 
Venables  (curate,  St.  Paul's),  50 
Victoria,  Queen,  2,  5,  241 


Waldegrave,  Bishop,  267,  269 

Walker,  Professor,  43,  204 

Wall,  Dr.,  62,  63 

Wall,  Henry,  99,  203,  &c. 

Wall,  Miss,  204 

Ward,  Lord,  224 

Ward,  W.  G.,  95,  100,  217,  264 

Warton,  T.,  162,  224,  283 

Weatherby  (Balliol),  no 

Wellesley,  Dr.,  20 

Wellesley,  Lord,  248 

Wellington,  Duke  of,  2,  113,  125, 

133.  HI 

West  (apothecary),  64,  299 
Westbury,  Lord,  198 
West  wood,  Professor,  20,  58,  &c. 
Whately,  Archbishop,  17,  37,  121, 

1 68 

Whewell,  Dr.,  223 
White,  see  Blanco 
Whorwood  (Magdalen),  166,  &c. 
Whorwood,  Madame,  166 
Wilberforce,  R.,  186 
Wilberforce,   Samuel,   50,    53,   54i 

154,  172,  199,  267,  314,  320 
Wilkins,  Harry,  35,  no,  117 
Williams  (botanical  professor),  32, 


Williams,  Henry,  174 
Williams,  Isaac,  180,  181,  224,  &c., 

287,  292 


Williams,  Miss,  244 

Williams,  Warden,  73,   164,  177 

Wilson  (Moral  Philosophy),  188 

Wilson,  R.  F.,  189 

Wingfield,  Mrs.  (Oxford),  236 

Wingfield,  Mrs.  (Tickencote),  68 

Wintle  (St.  John's),  307 

Wirion,  General,  173 

Wolff,  Joseph,  243 

Wood,  Anthony,  163 

Wood  (apothecary),  64 

Wood,  J.  G.,  46,  107 

Woodward,  51,  &c. 

Wooll,  Dr.,  231 

Wootten,  Dr.,  29,  45 

Wootten  (mayor),  4 

Wordsworth,   Charles,   85,  87,  &c., 

248,  304,  3°5 
Wordsworth,  Mrs.,  87 
Wordsworth,    William,    222,    252, 


Wormald  (oarsman),  1 1 1 
Wren,  Walter,  1 1 1 ,  &c. 
Wyatt,  James,  49,  292,  307 
Wynter,  Dr.,  151 

Yonge,  Miss,  142 
Young,  G.,  1 6 


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